


Touch the Sky

by rabidinsomniac



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, But it might work out for the best?, Canon Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mental Instability, Mentions of Past Torture, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Dynamics, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Council actually cares, The Council makes a stupid decision, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22287649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidinsomniac/pseuds/rabidinsomniac
Summary: “Something precious was taken from you. She should not have touched them. They were not hers to take.”When Obi-Wan was fifteen years old, his wings were taken from him. A bit of luck--and magic--give them back.It has... unexpected consequences.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 126
Kudos: 600





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is, but I hope y'all enjoy it. You can blame it on the song "Touch the Sky" from the movie Brave.
> 
> I've gotten tired of never posting anything because it isn't finished, but I also can't seem to actually finish anything, so I'm going to be posting a collection of works that may or may not be finished eventually.
> 
> I promise I will try, but I know many an orphaned fic began with that promise, so... there's that.

“Asajj,” Obi-Wan ground out. “You’re too injured. You won’t make it. Let me take you--”

“I will not die as your prisoner, Jedi,” she snapped, one hand pressed to her side, trying in vain to slow the bleeding--it was internal. There was no evidence of the blood she was draining, and that was  _ worse _ .

“ _ Asajj _ ,” Obi-Wan snapped. “Let me  _ help you _ .”

Around them, the ship’s flight deck continued to explode into flames, the smoke growing thicker and heavier with each passing moment.

“Master, we have to get  _ out of here _ !” Anakin called.

“You were trying to kill me two minutes ago. Forgive me if I’m not feeling terribly  _ trusting _ .”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” Obi-Wan replied, sounding almost affronted. “Believe me, you’d  _ know _ if I was trying to kill you. Now, let me help you. Continue to be stubborn and you’ll  _ die _ .” She glared at him and locked her knees to keep herself from crumbling. He seemed to soften somewhat. “You know who fired on us. You know that Dooku knew you were here, and still gave the order. He is not your Master anymore; he has betrayed you, as all Sith eventually betray their lineage. Come with  _ me _ .”

“Take me to Dathomir,” she said, surprising even herself. “The Night Mother can heal me.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan agreed, and offered a hand. "If you give me your word you will forsake the Sith, I will give my word to take you to Dathomir."

Asajj nodded slowly, and then reached out and took it.

* * *

“There is nothing here for a Jedi,” the Nightsister hissed. “You do not belong here. You are not welcome.” Obi-Wan gestured back to the small shuttle they’d taken down from the  _ Negotiator _ . He’d brought only Asajj, Cody, and Waxer with him. He wished his men had elected to remain behind, but they had both wordlessly shoved their way onto the shuttle.

“I seek nothing  _ from _ you,” he said, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. “I came to return one of your own who asked to come home.”

“Who?”

“Asajj Ventress.”

“She is in your ship? Why has she not come out?”

“She was injured,” he said. “Badly. Not by me! If I had hurt her, why would I be fool enough to bring her  _ here _ ?” The Nightsister paused where she had taken a step forward, ready to take her justice for his crime. “She was betrayed. We stabilized her, but… her wounds are extensive. She was adamant that the Night Mother could help.”

“She can,” the Nightsister hissed, though calmer this time. “Bring her to me.”

Obi-Wan turned to the ship and nodded; Cody emerged holding Asajj’s limp body. The Nightsister accepted the unconscious form, holding her length and weight as though they were nothing.

“Remain here.”

“Some thanks,” Cody grumbled, and Obi-Wan laughed.

* * *

As instructed, they remained at their ship. It was just after nightfall when two more Night Sisters appeared, and a taller, more regal figure with them. Obi-Wan guessed that would be the Night Mother.

“How is she?” Obi-Wan asked, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes, the perfect image of Jedi serenity. Behind him, Cody had a hand on his holstered blaster. Inside the shuttle, looking out from the open hull, Waxer was no doubt aiming from the shadows.

“She will live,” the Night Mother proclaimed. “You delivered her to us in time.” Obi-Wan nodded, his mask slipping to reveal genuine relief. Cody wondered why--he’d known that his General had some sort of soft spot for the Sith witch, but never  _ why _ . She’d tortured him for  _ months _ at one point, for Force’s sake!

“I am pleased to hear it.”

The Night Mother tilted her head to the side slightly. “Yes, you are. How… interesting.” She straightened even further, her height impressive, towering over Obi-Wan. “The Night Sisters of Dathomir do not like to be indebted to an  _ outsider _ .”

“I am a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, frowning slightly. “I brought her here because you could save her, and that was the right thing to do. Jedi preserve life. It is our way. We do not seek reward for it, or collect on  _ debts _ .”

“We are indebted to you,” the Night Mother repeated, “and we would not have it so. I will provide you the… appropriate recompense.”

“That’s hardly necessary--”

She spoke over him, her strange, low voice cutting through his words. “You have delivered my daughter to me, and I have made her whole. There is only one true, equal measure for you.” The Night Mother studied him carefully, and Obi-Wan thought he saw flashes of  _ anger _ and  _ sadness _ in her expression. “Something precious was taken from you. She should not have touched them. They were not hers to take.”

Obi-Wan’s body went rigid, his pale skin losing even more color. “I… no. They weren’t.”

The Night Mother nodded. “I will make you whole again, as I have been able to make my daughter, because of you, and our debt will be satisfied.”

“I… perhaps my delivery of Asajj only satisfies  _ my _ debt to you,” Obi-Wan murmured. “I killed Maul, a son of Dathomir.”

“I know this,” the Night Mother said placidly. “I know what becomes of  _ all _ of my children; their strings are not so easily cut from my web, no matter how far they may stray from me. He was the aggressor, and not strong enough to win the battle he sought to fight. It is not our way to seek revenge or hold you in debt simply because you were  _ stronger _ . Come, child. Bathe in the Waters of Life, and allow my magicks to work. You will be made whole, and our debt will be repaid.”

Obi-Wan studied her, both physically and in the Force. The anger and sadness he had felt… they were  _ for him _ . At what had been done to him, for what he had lost, for what had been  _ taken _ from him so long ago.

“I… thank you, Night Mother.” He bowed, and she nodded, satisfied.

Cody reached out to grab Obi-Wan’s arm. “I don’t know what she’s talking about, but perhaps you should remain here with us, sir.”

“It’s alright, Cody. She doesn’t mean me any harm.” He smiled and patted the hand on his arm. Cody nodded stiffly. He didn’t like it, but he knew his place. He wouldn’t argue further.

* * *

Anakin and Obi-Wan never talked about their scars, the ones they had already earned before meeting one another. Obi-Wan, he could sense, didn’t want to force him to relive any old hurts from his former life, and Anakin repaid him the same consideration.

That didn’t change the fact that Anakin had always  _ wondered _ about them. Some more than others.

The most striking scars Obi-Wan bore were on his back: two long, identical, red and angry welts following his shoulderblades. Anakin wondered where they came from, and why, and if they still hurt, because sometimes Obi-Wan would flinch ever-so-slightly when someone put their hand on his back and happened to touch one of the scars. (Anakin, when he was younger, stuck to touching Obi-Wan’s arms or shoulders, and as he grew older, the small of his back.)

He’d seen them countless times. A Master and Padawan were almost always in close quarters, on missions or in the Temple, and Obi-Wan had never been shy about changing in front of him or stripping down to bare his back for help patching up an injury. The questions had died on his tongue so many times: What  _ happened _ to you? Who  _ did this _ to you?

He didn’t think he would ever get his answer, and over the years, the curiosity faded. It was enough to know that, here and now, Obi-Wan was as whole as he could be with the hurts he’d been dealt, and  _ there _ .

(But he never could quite fully let it go, the anger he felt seeing the evidence of the injustices done to  _ his _ Obi-Wan wanting some  _ direction _ , wanting to know  _ who _ and  _ why _ . Anakin tried to  _ truly _ let it go, but… he’d never been very good at that.)

* * *

Neither Waxer nor Cody slept that night, waiting for the return of their General.

“I don’t like this,” Waxer said for the umpteenth time. Cody merely sighed. He didn’t either, but it had been the General’s choice.

Cody’s commlink began to beep. He answered it with a frown, not bothering to replace his bucket. It was probably just the  _ Negotiator _ checking in; they were late, after all, and even though Cody had sent them a text message (“The General is conversing with the leader here. Later ETA than expected. Will update when new intel available.”), he knew how much his brothers worried.

It was Rex.

“Vod,” Cody greeted him warmly. “What can I do for you?”

“General Skywalker’s been in a frenzy for the last  _ two hours _ . He’s been trying to raise Obi-Wan, even using their personal comm frequency that they keep for emergencies only, but there’s no answer. The  _ Negotiator _ sent word that he’s planetside somewhere?”

“Yes.”

“Is he with you? If General Skywalker could just speak to him…”

“Not at the moment. He’s… in a delicate conversation with one of the leaders down here,” Cody said vaguely. Rex sighed. “Why was General Skywalker looking for him?”

“He said something about General Kenobi being in pain,” Rex said grimly. “He said he felt it through their bond.”

Cody and Waxer exchanged  _ looks _ .

“As soon as we get the General back, we’ll let you know. Best I can do.”

“Vor’e,” Rex sighed. “I’ll just… send the Commander to keep him occupied until then. Over and out.”

“I  _ really _ don’t like this,” Waxer groaned.

* * *

They had been separated. It had happened before, and Obi-Wan was no longer a youngling, but… Never before had Qui-Gon felt this clenching in his gut, the pounding in his head that said  _ find him-find him-find him _ , this anxiety borne from the whispered--vague but insistent--warnings from the Force and the feeling of sheer, horrified  _ pain _ flowing through the bond from Obi-Wan’s side.

For ten hours, he did not rest, he did not  _ stop _ , and still, when Qui-Gon found him, it was too late.

He fought his way through the sprawling lab complex, cutting down droids and mercenaries sent to guard it without a second thought.  _ Find him-find him-find him _ . When he entered the room the Force was urging him towards, his heart still pounding from the exertion and adrenaline of battle, his lightsaber already ignited--Qui-Gon nearly dropped it.

There, resting on one of the white lab tables, covered in blood, lay a pair of copper wings.

A woman stood over them, covered in blood herself, peering down at them. There were gloves on her hands, some sort of instrument in one while the other stroked the feathers, a mimicry of some sort of scientific study.

“You’re a  _ touch _ late, Master Jedi,” she sighed.

“Zan Arbor,” Qui-Gon growled. “You will pay  _ dearly _ for that.”

And he did not use his ‘saber at all. Qui-Gon brought the Force to bear, channeling every feeling he knew he should be trying to release--fear, anger, pain,  _ hatred _ . He slammed her up against a wall. The impact was a sickening thud; she had broken bones. Internal bleeding was likely.

Qui-Gon continued to press, and press, and  _ press _ , collapsing her body under an avalanche just as real as any in a snowy mountain range, though far less tangible.

Mottled purple bruising began to appear on what was visible of her skin; blood vessels in her eyes popped; her lips began to turn blue from the lack of air.

“Qui-Gon!  _ Stop _ !”

Immediately, he dropped his hand, and his ‘saber, the green blade blinking out just before it hit the floor.

Obi-Wan was leaning against the doorway, pale and shaking, covered in his own blood, his tunics ruined, staring at his Master with… with horror.

“I am so sorry, dear one,” he rapsed, voice breaking. “You should… not have had to see that. You should not have had to  _ endure _ that.”

“A Jedi does not seek revenge,” Obi-Wan whispered back. “You were standing on a dangerous precipice. I’m only glad I got here in time to pull you back.”

“You always do,” Qui-Gon answered, his smile grim. It faltered in the next instant. “What she took from you… I could not allow that to go… unanswered for.”

“I’m alive, Master,” Obi-Wan had said wearily. “Let that be enough. Let Judicial decide her fate--that will be justice. This was… revenge.”

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, reticently. “We’ll take them with us. Perhaps the Healers can--”

“We  _ will _ take them with us, because they are  _ mine _ , but…” Obi-Wan shook his head; he already knew the truth. Even if they could be reattached, they had been fully severed. They would never function again. He would never  _ fly _ again. “I’m alive. Let that be enough.”

Qui-Gon could do nothing. Again, he whispered, “I am  _ so very sorry _ , Padawan.”

* * *

When the Night Mother returned early the next morning, again flanked by two Sisters, their General was being suspended in front of them, a cloudy green mist below him seeming to bear him aloft. Cody stood immediately and strode out to meet them; Waxer followed after a moment.

“He will be well,” the Night Mother said, sounding smugly satisfied. “Allow him to sleep. When we wakes, then you may leave this place.”

“What did you do to him?” Cody asked, tone dangerously even. “He was in pain.”

“Yes,” she said mildly. “No loss can be restored without first confronting the  _ pain _ of the loss. That is our way. But he overcame, and was made whole. You may take him now.”

Cody stepped forward to take the General’s unconscious form, hoping they wouldn’t drop him before he was ready to grab him, and… he didn’t know where to put his hands.

There, resting against the General’s back, covered by the green mist--and the only possible explanation for how he hadn’t  _ noticed _ them before--were two large, bright copper wings, the long feathers the same color as his hair.

“What did you  _ do _ to him?” Cody gasped.

“I have already told you,” the Night Mother sighed. “I made him  _ whole _ .”

* * *

Obi-Wan woke slowly, lying on his stomach. He immediately sensed the similarly sleeping forms of Cody and Waxer nearby, and knew that if there was no one keeping watch, he was safe enough. He indulged himself, bringing himself slowly to awareness, stretching out his senses as he stretched his body, his arms straightening over his head, straining his legs and then relaxing them, and he stretched out his wings slightly, ruffling the feathers, and--

His eyes flew open, disappointment pooling in his belly. He was dreaming again.

Ah, well. A small, rueful grin appeared on his face. If he was having  _ this _ dream again, he was going to take full advantage.

He stood slowly, quietly, and made his way out of the shuttle. Dathomir--of course. The last place he’d been often featured into his dreams when his mind decided to give him his wings back.

But Dathomir would suit well, with its towering mountain ranges and low valleys. The shuttle they’d taken from the  _ Negotiator _ had been landed upon a plateau, and there was just one such sweeping valley below them. Obi-Wan grinned; this would suit perfectly.

He paused only long enough to feel the currents of the wind around him, and then he strode to the edge and stepped off.

* * *

It didn’t seem to matter how quiet or  _ sneaky _ his General tried to be; Cody seemed to have developed a sixth sense for the man. He woke the moment his General stepped out of their craft, and scrambled up after him, quickly shrugging off exhaustion with the long experience of the battle-ready and regularly sleep-deprived. His own movements roused Waxer, who was up right after him.

They were just in time to be treated to the sight of General Kenobi stepping calmly off a  _ cliff _ .

For a long, heart-stopping moment, neither Cody nor Waxer said anything, and Cody’s mind whirled--his first instinct was utter  _ panic _ , because there was nothing he could do to stop the fall, and his second was to remind himself that his General had the Force, and he could  _ levitate _ for kriff’s sake. But why he’d jumped off was another… troubling matter.

And then his still sleep-sluggish brain remembered the wings. Would they actually hold him? Could he actually fly? He’d seen avian species before, of course, but all of them were… distinctly bird-like. What if Obi-Wan was too heavy? What if he needed hollow bones or something like true avians did? What if--

The panic eased, but Cody’s breath caught, as he saw his General appear in the air above them, shooting upward, wings beating powerfully, gleaming brilliant copper in the red sunlight--

It was beautiful.

“ _ Osik _ !” Waxer cried.

They could do nothing but watch, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, as Obi-Wan finally reached a height that seemed to suit him--and Cody  _ still _ couldn’t quite get the image of his General falling out of his head, and his stomach churned again--and then the wings went taught and still, spread out across his body. He shifted left and right, riding the current he’d caught, before pulling his wings back in, rolling, and then reopening them, all in seconds.

He did it again, and then again, and Cody managed to smile--

And then he pulled his wings in a fourth time, and he did not roll, and he did not spread them again. He began to fall, faster and faster and faster, his body a straight line, arms at his sides, legs straight, headed back for the plateau--

For several too-long, nauseating seconds, Cody thought he was going to crash.

At the last moment, Obi-Wan spread his wings, gliding quick as speeder only a few scant  _ meters _ over the ground, whipping by Waxer and Cody so quickly that the wind of it made them both take a step back, grounding themselves with a wider stance. The shuttle rocked slightly.

Obi-Wan made another pass, this time a lazier loop around them and the shuttle, before righting his body, going perpendicular to the ground, his wings beating powerfully again, stopping him in place. He allowed himself to fall the last few inches until his feet hit solid ground, and then tucked his wings back.

Cody wanted to… he wanted to hug him, he was so  _ relieved _ , and that really had been… awe-inspiring. And then he wanted to shake him, maybe even punch him, because waking up just in time to see him throw himself off a cliff was  _ terrifying _ .

“Fucking  _ di’kut _ ,” Cody growled, his fists clenching. So he’d picked anger, then.

Obi-Wan just laughed. “My apologies if I worried you. I did get a bit… carried away.”

Cody pointed two fingers at him. “ _ Don’t _ ever do that again,” he snapped, his tone the same business-like Commander’s voice he used on the shinies. “At least not without  _ warning me _ .”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan agreed easily, the smile still on his face.

There was a strange, heavy silence then. Waxer cleared his throat.

“Well, I don’t know about  _ you _ , but I want to get out of here,” Waxer said. “The witches said we could leave when he woke up. Let’s go home.”

Something mournful and pained flickered across Obi-Wan’s expression then, his smile dimming. “Of course,” he repeated, but remained standing precisely where he was.

“...what are we waiting for, sir?” Cody asked.

“Waxer said we could leave once I woke up,” Obi-Wan explained slowly. “I’m waiting to wake up now.”

Cody and Waxer exchanged puzzled glances.

“Quite strange of my subconscious to keep it going this long--usually I don’t even get a full flight in before I wake up,” Obi-Wan was continuing to prattle on. “And the two of  _ you _ are very much in-character.”

“This… isn’t a dream, sir,” Cody said slowly. “It’s real.”

“That’s kind of you to reassure me,” Obi-Wan said, nodding, although he clearly didn’t believe it.

“Do you… dream about having wings often?” Cody asked. Some distant, still-shocked part of his brain whispered that this was perhaps the  _ strangest _ Jedi-shit that he’d ever been a part of.

“Oh, yes,” Obi-Wan sighed. “Ever since they were taken from me years ago.”

Cody again looked at Waxer, and then back at his General. “The Night Mother said she made you whole.”

“I… what?” Obi-Wan faltered, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“After you brought the Sith witch to them. The Mother took you somewhere, saying she was going to make you whole again, and then when you came back, you had…” Cody gestured to him, and saw the wings ruffle slightly.

Obi-Wan’s eyes went wide, his expression perfect shock.

“I…  _ what _ ? This is  _ real _ ?”

“It’s real,” Cody and Waxer confirmed together.

And then Obi-Wan burst into tears.

* * *

Anakin was… agitated. Irritable.  _ Upset _ .

He was… confused. And  _ worried _ . Anakin hated being  _ confused,  _ and he couldn’t stand being  _ worried _ . He was a man of  _ action _ \--puzzling out the lay of the land and figuring out  _ what _ to do was what Obi-Wan was good at, and Anakin was good at the  _ doing _ part, but that was the whole  _ point _ : something was happening to Obi-Wan, and he didn’t know  _ what _ , and he couldn’t figure it out. Obi-Wan wasn’t answering him, either through their commlinks, or their bond.

And their bond… that was where the  _ confusion-worry _ came from. He’d woken up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, feeling waves of fiery pain thrumming through him. It had taken him a long moment to realize that  _ he _ wasn’t the one in pain.

He’d leapt up in a panic as soon as it subsided enough for him to breathe again, grabbing his commlink and pacing the length of his quarters (only four steps back and forth--his legs were long, and the cabin too small for this, but the movement helped).

Obi-Wan didn’t answer.

The pain faded away to  _ tired-sore- _ **_hope_ ** that made no sense to him, and Anakin had gone to find Rex. His Captain answered promptly despite the late hour, dressed down to his bare blacks for sleep.

“Sir?”

“Comm the  _ Negotiator _ ,” he said. “Anyone in the 212th. I need to talk to Obi-Wan  _ now _ .”

Rex frowned, but nodded, jerking his head to indicate Anakin should follow him into his quarters. As Rex grabbed his commlink and punched in Cody’s code, he asked, “What’s the situation?”

“I don’t know,” Anakin growled. “That’s why I need to talk to Obi-Wan. I… there was so much  _ pain _ , I felt it through the bond, he was  _ hurt _ , and… badly.”

Rex nodded. “I’ll try the main bridge line for the  _ Negotiator _ .”

They were answered promptly.

“This is Captain Rex and General Skywalker,” Rex said, allowing the weight of authority to color and clip his words. “We need General Kenobi on the line  _ now _ .”

“He isn’t here, sirs. He’s planetside now, with Commander Cody and Waxer.”

“Thank you.” He ended the call, and then punched in Cody’s comm line. No answer. He looked up at his General. “I’ll keep trying them.”

“Right,” Anakin growled, “I’m going to… to…” There was nothing else he  _ could _ do. He’d been summoned back to the Core; the  _ Resolute _ would be resupplying via Coruscant while he and Ahsoka remained in the Temple so she could catch up on some coursework. They all could use the break, Force knew. But that meant there was no battle to plan, and most everyone was getting well-earned rest, and… He had nothing to  _ do _ .

Anakin felt his shoulders slump. “I guess I’ll monitor the bond, then, and see if he responds.”

* * *

Anakin returned to his own quarters, sinking down into meditation, opening himself solely to the bond between him and his former Master. He didn’t know how long he sat there, unmoving, before the door chime drew him back to himself.

It was Rex. “I reached Cody, sir.”

“And?”

“...he said General Kenobi was ‘a delicate conversation with one of the leaders’ of… wherever they were. I didn’t think to ask, at the time.”

“That’s… not comforting.”

“No.”

“Thank you, Rex.”

“Of course, sir. Cody said he would notify us when the General returned. I’ll keep you updated.”

* * *

Anakin knew that Rex had sent Ahsoka to him as a distraction, but… it  _ had _ helped. She sat down next to him, opening her own bond with Obi-Wan, sending Anakin brief pulses of reassurance through theirs.

It was hours and hours later before either of them felt anything. When they did, it hit Anakin so strongly that he gasped. The  _ pain-fear-grief _ of the night before was now set against wild, unabashed  _ joy-exhilaration-wonder _ , and… what was  _ going on? _

It faded away a few minutes later to intense confusion, and then  _ shock-disbelief- _ **_hope_ ** , and Anakin forced himself away, the quickly spiralling emotions making his head ache. He rubbed his temples.

“What  _ was _ that?” Ahsoka asked, eyes wide.

“I don’t know, Snips,” he said slowly, “but  _ something _ happened.”

Not five minutes later, Anakin’s comm chirped. It was Obi-Wan’s frequency. He answered and frowned; audio only.

“Obi-Wan!”

“Anakin,” his Master said, his voice just as smooth and steady as ever. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“What the fuck  _ was that _ ? Are you okay?”

“I am… fantastic, actually.” Without being able to see him, it was difficult to tell if that was sarcasm or not. “Really. I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Ahsoka broke in.

“Oh, hello, Grandpadawan,” Obi-Wan greeted her. “It was… a gift, of sorts.”

“You were hurt,” Anakin protested. “I  _ felt  _ it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Obi-Wan said, regret genuine in his voice. “I didn’t intend for that to reach you. But to answer your question: no, I am not injured. I was… reliving old hurts, so that they could be healed.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Anakin growled, and Obi-Wan laughed.

“It didn’t for me, either, until I experienced it myself,” he said. “The Night Mother’s methods are… unusual, but effective.”

“The Night Mother? On Dathomir?  _ That’s _ who you were meeting with?”

“Well, yes.”

“What did she  _ do _ to you?” Ahsoka looked pointedly at Anakin’s clenched fist, the one not holding his comm; it was his mech hand, and he was in danger of over-exerting the joints again. He forced it to relax.

“I really think that’s something you ought to see in person,” Obi-Wan said, sounding… amused?  _ Absolutely infuriating _ , Anakin thought. “The Council has ordered the  _ Negotiator  _ back to Coruscant. I’m told I’ll see you there.”

“Dammit, Obi-Wan, what were you even  _ doing _ ? It felt like you were in pain, and then this morning it was like… Bliss.”

“Oh, that? I was… flying.”

Anakin blinked. “You hate flying.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “No. You and I simply… have very different definitions of ‘flying.’ But I’ve got to be going, we’re docking now. You can wait two days, Anakin. Always a pleasure, Ahsoka.”

The call ended, and Anakin threw the commlink at the wall. He heard it crack and winced, the anger suddenly going out of him.

“At least he’s okay. Should we meditate, Master?” Ahsoka asked gently, and Anakin sighed.

“Probably, Snips.” He sighed heavily, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to settle now, but… He was trying to set a good example for his Padawan. Like Obi-Wan. He winced at the thought, and a flare of irritation at the man made him ask, “Do you want to go spar instead?”

“Thank the Force, I was hoping you would ask.”

* * *

The moment Cody and Obi-Wan stepped off of the shuttle and into the bay of the  _ Negotiator _ , a hush fell over the troopers who had been bustling about, attending to their various duties. Waxer was spared, choosing to remain onboard for the moment to set the shuttle back to rights. Two dozen sets of eyes all stared at Obi-Wan, and he felt himself flush.

This was, perhaps, the  _ one _ thing he hadn’t missed about his wings.

“I… sir?” Obi-Wan looked over to where one brave trooper--Arrow, he recalled after a moment--had called out to him. “Is everything… alright?”

“Yes, Arrow, everything is fine,” he said confidently, smiling at him. He nodded, and then continued through the hangar. No one moved or said another word.

“It’s going to be like that through the whole ship, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan sighed.

“Can you  _ blame _ them?” Cody asked. Obi-Wan laughed.

“Well, no.”

They continued in silence until they reached a T-junction. Obi-Wan started to step to the left, and Cody grabbed his arm. He jerked his head to the right.

“Cody?”

“You’re going to the med bay, sir.”

“Cody--”

“ _ You are going to the med bay _ .”

Obi-Wan sighed, but allowed himself to be led. He smiled at each trooper he passed and greeted them with a nod and their name as though nothing was  _ different _ or  _ unusual _ at all, although he caught stares and stunned silence from each of them.

“Cody, you said this was going to be a simple dropoff,” the medic on duty, Power, greeted them. “Why am I seeing your ugly mug in my medbay?”

“Not here for me,” Cody said, and then jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards his General. “Him.”

“General, what’ve you… done this.. time… what the  _ fuck _ ?”

“Yes, I know, it’s rather different than the last time you saw me,” Obi-Wan said. “But I assure you, I’m fine, and they are, in fact,  _ supposed _ to be there.”

“I… you have wings,” Power said dully. “You leave the ship for a little over a  _ day _ and you show up with two new appendages? No. That’s not ‘fine,’ General. Sit down. Strip.”

“They’re not  _ new _ , Power. Well, I suppose,  _ sort of _ \--”

“ _ Off. _ ”

Obi-Wan grimaced. “I think you might have to… cut it off.”

“What?”

“Well, the Night Mother didn’t exactly gift me new clothing, or bother to take it off for this. The wings sprouted  _ through _ the shirt, but those holes aren’t anywhere near big enough to go over the wings now.”

“...oh. Right.”

Cody grimaced, sensing a  _ lot _ of requests to the Quartermaster in his future. His General always got his tunics and robes from the Temple, that was true, but Cody always liked to have spares. Who knew what his General was going to get up to. Not to mention that they would have to modify his armor. The back plate would need to be split, and--did wings need armor? What if they got shot? Cody’s headache grew worse.

The tabards and obi were easily pulled away around the wings, but Obi-Wan was right, and Power had to cut the actual tunic off. He ran a hand over the seam between the wings and Obi-Wan’s back; the General flinched slightly.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” he said, and then shifted slightly. “That... tickles.”

“Right,” Power said slowly. “Do you think they work?”

Cody couldn’t help himself and snorted. “They work.”

“I… tested them rather thoroughly this morning,” Obi-Wan admitted.

“Oh?”

“He jumped off a kriffing  _ cliff _ and then flew circles around us.”

Power fixed Obi-Wan with a disapproving stare. Obi-Wan shifted guiltily.

“I… thought I was dreaming?” he said in his defense, which only deepened Power’s glower. “Besides, I had the Force with me, as always. I wouldn’t have fallen too far if they  _ didn’t _ work. But they did.”

Power sighed, shaking his head, and turned his attention back to the wings. He ran a hand over one of the wings, which immediately relaxed slightly, and Obi-Wan let out a strangled noise. Startled, Power drew his hand back.

“Apologies,” Obi-Wan murmured, blushing faintly. “They’re quite... sensitive.”

“Noted.”

Power thoroughly examined each wing, and once he realized that “sensitive” meant “that feels good,” his touch became a bit steadier, a bit firmer.

Finally, he stood up.

“General, I don’t know how this happened, and I’m just going to assume it’s more weird Jedi shit at this point,” Power sighed, and Obi-Wan nodded, a sympathetic expression on his face. “They look fine to me, but I’m not really equipped or trained to treat… wings. Do you know anything about… how you’re supposed to care for them?”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said with a wan smile. “I had them for fifteen years, before they were taken from me.”

“You had wings  _ before _ ?” Cody asked, and then he frowned. “The scars on your back-- _ that’s _ what happened? Someone--”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan cut him off, looking pained. “And I’d rather not dwell on that, thank you. Especially now that I have them back.”

“Well, then, I guess I’ll pronounce you fit,” Power said, looking a bit out of his depth. His expression turned thoughtful. “Do the Healers in the Temple know how to care for wings?”

“Of course. There are several avian-type Jedi.”

“Right, then. I’ll want to make contact with them once we reach Coruscant, get a crash course in…” Power waved a hand at Obi-Wan, gesturing to  _ all  _ of him. “... _ this _ .”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan repeated.

* * *

Anakin was ready to  _ burst _ by the time he got the notification that the  _ Negotiator _ was in orbit and Obi-Wan’s shuttle was about to land at the Temple. With their detour to Dathomir, they’d been an entire day behind the  _ Resolute _ in getting there.  _ An entire extra  _ **_day_ ** _ ,  _ Anakin had had to stew.

He hurried from his room--the same Padawan room he’d occupied when Obi-Wan was still his Master; Ahsoka liked her independence, and either slept in the Padawan dorms or on their very comfortable couch--and found Ahsoka at the table, poring over a datapad.

“Snips, it’s time,” he said, and she immediately jumped up, her studying forgotten.

They garnered a few disapproving looks from other Jedi as they raced toward the landing platforms, but Anakin didn’t care. Not that he  _ usually _ did, but this time he had a  _ reason  _ for being in a hurry. Obi-Wan was too important, and he  _ had _ to see him.

Mace was already there by the time they reached the platform, and he raised an eyebrow at their harried appearances.

“Master Windu,” Anakin greeted, and he and Ahsoka bowed politely. Mace nodded back.

“Force, man, breathe,” Mace said. “Did you run here?”

“Uh, it was more of a fast walk?” Ahsoka chimed in, and Mace snorted.

“Here to greet Obi-Wan, I take it.”

“Yeah,” Anakin said. “I’m really looking forward to figuring out what in the Hels is going on here.” Mace frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Have you  _ talked _ to Obi-Wan? Something happened to him, and he wouldn’t tell me what.”

“No. We got an acknowledgement of the orders to return here from him, but that was all.”

“Well, we’re about to find out,” Ahsoka said as the shuttle came into view, landing easily on the platform before them.

There was a charged silence as the door hissed open, and one of the 212th troopers stepped out--Anakin’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach as he placed him: Power, one of the 212th medics. Had Obi-Wan lied to him  _ again _ ? Was he  _ hurt _ ?

But Obi-Wan was behind him, exiting the shuttle under his own steam, and Anakin felt relief so strong that he had to lock his knees just to remain upright.

And then Anakin noticed the… things behind Obi-Wan. They came up over his shoulders, over his head, even, and… were those  _ feathers _ ?

“How in the nine  _ Hels _ \--?” Mace breathed, his eyes wide, and Obi-Wan caught sight of them and smiled widely. When he got close enough to them to hear, Mace repeated himself: “ _ How _ ?”

“Ah, to make a long story short: the Waters of Life on Dathomir. The Night Mother… took special offense to what was done to them before,” Obi-Wan said cheerfully. “Apparently part of the code of the Night Sisters forbids coveting that which is not rightfully yours.”

“You… do they  _ work _ ?” Mace asked, and Obi-Wan nodded.

“Very well, in fact.”

“You have  _ wings _ ,” Anakin said stupidly. Obi-Wan turned to him.

“Hello, Anakin. And hello, Ahsoka. Yes,” he said dryly, “I have wings.”

Ahsoka, in her awe and excitement, seemed to forget that she was standing in front of her own Master and two High Councilors, and proclaimed, “That is so  _ badass _ .”

Obi-Wan laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

Ahsoka had cheerfully parted ways with them, heading off to sit for her Pre-Reformation History exam (“If I bomb it, can I blame it on being distracted by  _ this _ ?” she’d asked, and Anakin had only groaned).

Anakin and Obi-Wan walked to their quarters in silence. As soon as they got in the door, Anakin put his hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, forcing him to remain in place as he studied him intently.

Obi-Wan was wearing what looked like some kind of chest wrap, his tabards and obi on top, leaving his pale arms bare. Anakin had almost forgotten the tattoos he had; one on his right shoulder, the emblem of the Order, and one on his left, the symbol of the Open Circle Fleet. Anakin took in the wings: tall, with long, copper feathers--they looked soft--the same color as his hair.

Anakin let go and took a small step back. He ran his flesh hand through his hair. “I have  _ so many  _ questions.”

“I have a feeling I know what you’re going to ask,” Obi-Wan said with a grimace. “Let me at least grab a drink, first.” Anakin nodded, watching as Obi-Wan padded to the kitchen--as he turned, Anakin got to see the wings in all their glory. They were  _ huge _ \--it looked like that would be at least a twenty-foot wingspan, when they were unfurled. They caught the light streaming in from the windows, gleaming brilliantly.

They were beautiful.

Obi-Wan returned with a bottle of Corellian brandy and two glasses, setting them down on the caf table and waving at the couch. He poured for them both--generously, Anakin noted--before sitting. Obi-Wan sat sideways, his back resting against the arm of the couch, his legs tucked up underneath him, his wings resting behind him. Reaching over, he reclaimed his glass and took a long swallow.

“Fire away.”

“So you had wings… before?”

“I did.”

Anakin frowned. He… didn’t like thinking about this part. Quietly, he asked, “The scars on your back…?”

“Indeed. That’s why I wanted the liquor. It’s… not a pleasant memory.” Anakin nodded, giving Obi-Wan a moment to drink deeply, draining half the glass.

“Is that why you never told me? It hurt to think about?”

“Partly. And… you’d never known me  _ with _ wings. You never knew that I was any different, once. It was… refreshing, to have someone look at me and not at least partly see what I’d lost.”

And… yeah, okay, Anakin was a little mad that Obi-Wan had hidden this from him, but… he knew that feeling. Every time an Initiate or younger Padawan who hadn’t yet learned that it was rude asked how he lost his arm, he felt… It was a reminder of the pain. He had found a new normal, but the  _ questions _ made him relive it in ways he… didn’t want to.

“Okay. I get that.”

Obi-Wan drained his glass, and then poured another, drinking a third of that, too. Anakin grimaced and drank more himself. Clearly, this wasn’t going to be pleasant to relate, or to hear.

“When I was fifteen, Qui-Gon and I were sent to look into a chemical company. Shady dealings with the Trade Federation, who we’d already had in our sights, even then,” Obi-Wan began, staring down into his glass. “We found out quickly enough that they were manufacturing illegal chemical weapons. We tracked down the scientist responsible for their… innovations, and set out to bring her in.

“The scientist behind it all was a woman named Jenna Zan Arbor. She was… quite cunning. Brilliant, actually. A great scientist. If she had turned her talents towards more constructive endeavors, I can’t even imagine how many diseases we would have cures for by now.” He paused to take another drink. “We knew that she  _ had _ a lab, and which city it was in, but that was it. Qui-Gon and I split up to hasten the search, and… well, I don’t actually remember  _ how _ she got me, since there was a rather nasty concussion involved, but I woke up in her lab. Alone.”

Obi-Wan was silent for a time, his unseeing eyes still fixed on his drink. Anakin didn’t dare move or make a sound.

“She said that she hadn’t ever seen anything like them before, not on a human. They were… unique. And above all, Zan Arbor liked  _ unique _ things. She said that she wanted to figure out how to give  _ everyone _ wings. But more than that… she just… wanted them.”

Anakin’s stomach churned.

“She cut them off. That’s… how I got the scars on my back. She didn’t knock me out, didn’t drug me. I blacked out numerous times--from the pain and the blood loss. I thought I was going to die.” Anakin squeezed his eyes shut against the rage-induced nausea. Obi-Wan continued, his voice still flat. “She cauterized the wounds so I  _ wouldn’t _ bleed to death, and then calm-as-you-please took them out to her lab and started examining them. That’s when Qui-Gon found me.”

“Fuck.”

“Quite. Qui-Gon was… furious. He used a Force push on her and just… didn’t stop. He would have  _ crushed _ her.” Obi-Wan took another steadying drink. “I felt him, felt what was happening, and dragged myself up and told him to stop.”

“She would have deserved it.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Perhaps. But… a Jedi does not seek revenge. We gave her to Judicial, and Qui-Gon was spared a Fall. It was the… favorable outcome.”

Anakin made a strangled noise. “Obi-Wan, the  _ favorable _ outcome would’ve been you  _ not _ being maimed.” Obi-Wan winced.

“Yes, well, that was no longer an available option.”

“...right.” They sat in silence for a time. Finally, Anakin asked, “What happened to her?”

“She committed suicide a year later. She had been sentenced to life, between the war crimes she was complicit in and her… actions towards me. Unable to work on her ‘projects,’ she… wasn’t good company for herself. All that  _ thinking _ and nothing to do.”

“That’s fitting, at least. All of the satisfaction with none of the Dark Side.”

Obi-Wan barked a laugh, and then shook his head. “Incorrigible.”

“Thank you.” The familiar teasing helped, and the silence that fell then was easier. “Can I touch them?”

“If you like.”

Obi-Wan set his glass down and turned around, allowing his wings to loosen away from his back slightly, falling against the couch towards Anakin. He scooted closer, and reached out his human hand tentatively, brushing first one finger against the feathers, and then his whole hand, always stroking downwards. They  _ were _ as soft as they looked.

Then Obi-Wan made a noise that sounded like a  _ purr _ , and Anakin froze. Obi-Wan stiffened.

“Shouldn’t you, I don’t know,  _ chirp _ ? You sound like a loth cat.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I apologize if my sound effects are not to your expectations, Anakin.” Anakin snorted in reply and resumed stroking. “It feels… nice.”

“That’s good.”

Anakin continued his stroking, moving from one wing to the other, until Obi-Wan slumped back slowly, fast asleep. Anakin grinned, gently moving out of the way to allow him the full space of the couch. Immediately, Obi-Wan’s wings wrapped around his sleeping form like a cocoon.

It was… sweet.

An impish grin on his face, Anakin quickly took a holo, and then stepped outside to the relative privacy of their balcony.

“Hello, love,” Padme answered his call. They were using the frequencies set aside for personal calls, already telling the other that they were alone and secure.

“Obi-Wan is an angel,” Anakin said in a rush. There was a beat of silence, and then Padme laughed.

“I thought I was your angel.”

“That’s… true, but not what I’m talking about right now,” Anakin said. “Obi-Wan is  _ literally _ an angel.”

Padme hummed consideringly. “I don’t know, Ani. A saint, maybe, for putting up with  _ you _ , and the rest of the  _ Council _ , but an angel?”

“He has wings, Padme.  _ Wings _ .”

“Anakin, are you alright?” The playfulness dropped out of her voice, genuine concern ringing through. “Obi-Wan doesn’t have  _ wings _ . Did you get another concussion?”

“I’m fine. He just… apparently he had them his whole life, but… I’d always  _ known _ something happened to him, because he had these scars on his back, you know? But we never talked about it. And then he showed up today with karking  _ wings _ and said the witches on Dathomir found a way to give them back to him, because… someone…” Anakin took a deep breath. “This fucking bitch named Zan Arbor cut them off before I ever met him. When he was still just a  _ kid _ . Force--he was  _ Ahsoka’s _ age, when it happened.”

“That’s horrible,” Padme gasped.

“Yeah. He had to drink about half a bottle before he could even tell me about it.”

“Poor Obi-Wan,” Padme murmured. There was a moment of silence, both of them contemplating the pain their long-suffering friend had gone through in his life. “But they’re back now?”

“Yeah. They’re  _ huge _ , too, and get this. He can actually  _ fly _ with them.”

“Wow. I’d love to see it.”

“Me too--haven’t had a chance yet.”

“Will he mind you telling me?”

“He’s the Order’s poster boy,” Anakin sighed. “ _ Everyone _ is going to notice, and probably sooner rather than later.”

“Right. Well… if either of you need anything, or if Obi-Wan feels like showing off, let me know, okay?”

Anakin chuckled. “Will do.”

“I love you, Ani. And send my best to Obi-Wan.”

“I love you, too. Bye, angel.”

Padme giggled.

* * *

Obi-Wan woke with a hazy, content feeling. He was  _ warm _ , so much warmer than he usually felt, and he shifted, nuzzling into his own feathers.

“Aww,” he heard someone say; distantly, he placed it as Ahsoka. She was trying to whisper and doing a poor job of it. “That’s adorable.”

“Shh, you’re going to wake him up, and he doesn’t sleep enough as it is.” Obi-Wan forced his eyes to open. That was Power.

“Too late,” he said, sighing as he sat up and carefully stretched his wings out--not too far, his quarters weren’t nearly big enough for that--before tucking them back behind him again. “Good…” He glanced toward the window where the dim twilight was filtering through. “Evening?”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka said, grinning widely at him before coming to sit beside him on the couch. “You slept all day.”

“No surprise there,” Power huffed, standing in front of the two of them and folding his arms over his chest. “I got a  _ lot _ of useful information from the Healers.” Obi-Wan groaned.

“Power--”

“General, in matters of health, even--especially-- _ your _ health, I outrank you,” Power reminded him sternly. Obi-Wan sighed and waved a hand for him to continue; that  _ was _ why his name was Power, after all. “Thank you. Now, they helped me out with a few calculations, and… I’m putting you on a schedule.”

“A schedule for what?” Obi-Wan frowned.

“Eating, to start with. You  _ already _ weren’t eating enough, and your caloric intake needs just skyrocketed to two-point-two times what they were before,” Power said, and then he grinned. “Master Che was more than happy to help me run the numbers.” Obi-Wan groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. He  _ knew _ it was only a matter of time before the Master Healer found out, and then he’d be subjected to yet another exam, but he’d hoped he would have more  _ time _ . “And sleep. Again: you weren’t sleeping enough  _ before _ , and now you need even  _ more _ sleep.” Obi-Wan just nodded wearily, knowing that there was no way around this. Maybe he would get lucky and Power would allow Cody to enforce the schedule rather than doing so himself--he always had a little more leeway with his Commander than the medics…

“Now for the, ah,  _ other _ thing.” Power stepped back and picked up a black case, setting it down on the low table and opening it. Inside were several brushes, combs, a container of wax, and some bacta patches. “You have a normal range of motion for a human, so there’s just no way for you to reach  _ all _ of the feathers, so you’ll have to teach some of us how to help you, with, ah--”

“Preening,” Obi-Wan finished, looking faintly amused. Ahsoka giggled. “Yes, I had thought of that.”

“Good,” Power nodded decisively. Then he shifted his weight slightly, uncomfortable. “The Healers also informed me that it’s a… fairly  _ personal _ practice. If there’s someone you would prefer…?”

“Your help would be much appreciated,” Obi-Wan answered soothingly. “But I will probably need the help of several different people; Force knows this war is keeping us all busy enough that no one person could be expected to take the time every day.”

“I’d love to learn,” Ahsoka burst in, and then she flushed. “If you, ah, wouldn’t mind my help?”

Obi-Wan smiled gently at her. “Thank you, Ahsoka. I would like that.”

“And I’m sure Skyguy wouldn’t mind.”

Obi-Wan hummed consideringly. “We’ll have to try that out, first. With his mech hand, I’m not sure if he’d be able to, since a lot of it is based on touch feedback.”

“In any case, you’ll need a few of the 212th in on this, too,” Power said. “General Skywalker and Commander Tano are a good start, but like you said, you’ll need someone available, and they’re with their own legion most of the time.”

“Perhaps… I know Cody is terribly busy, and I’d hate to add anything else to his plate--”

“He won’t mind, sir,” Power said confidently, nodding. “Anyone else?”

Obi-Wan paused for a moment. “Anyone in the 212th who’d  _ like _ to learn is welcome. I trust you all implicitly.” Power looked pleased by that, nodding, and Ahsoka’s grin stretched across her face.

“Can we start now?” she asked eagerly, scooting forward to peer into the box.

“It would take quite some time to do,” Obi-Wan sighed. “Perhaps tomorrow morning?”

“Absolutely not,” Power said. “We’ll need to do it tonight, since I have it on good authority that you ‘tested’ the wings without even seeing to them  _ first _ .”

“It was  _ fine _ , Power,” Obi-Wan grumbled. The medic simply snorted at him.

“Dinner first, then preening,” he said decisively. “Do you have anything here to cook?”

“I’m not in the habit of keeping much stocked here, since I spend more time on the  _ Negotiator _ .” Obi-Wan looked… nervous, a brief flicker of  _ anxiety _ in the Force. Without thinking, Ahsoka grabbed one of his hands. He smiled at her faintly.

“What’s wrong?”

“The refectory at dinnertime is… busy.”

“Oh,” Ahsoka said in sudden understanding. “You don’t like people staring at them?”

“It isn’t that--people  _ always _ stared at them. It’s just… there will probably be others there who know what happened to them the first time, and I’d really rather not discuss it  _ again _ .”

“We’ll help keep the questions at bay,” Power assured him, “but you  _ have _ to eat. I’ll be going with you to make sure you do.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Let’s get this over with, then. Shall we?”

* * *

The moment they stepped into the refectory, a hush began to fall over the assembled Jedi, though it almost as quickly broke into quiet chatter again. No doubt discussing  _ him _ .

Power could tell how uncomfortable the General was, but there was nothing for it. He couldn’t just hide away hoping no one would talk about it. Power followed him down the lines as he gathered up small portions of food on his plate, and Power cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at him. Sighing again, Obi-Wan heaped another serving of noodles onto his plate and dumped spicy sauce all over them. Ahsoka wrinkled her nose, but Power nodded in approval. Apparently spicy food hadn’t been a regular staple in the Temple until the war, when Mandalorian taste in food began to rub off on their Jedi.

Finding an empty table, they sat, and Power and Ahsoka began digging in eagerly. Obi-Wan simply picked at his food, pushing it around on his plate more than actually eating. Power wondered if it had something to do with feeling everyone’s eyes on him.

“You know, sir,” Power said slowly, “the troops are going to have to… adjust. This is going to change how you fight, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan frowned thoughtfully. “I hadn’t really thought of that. But yes, it will. I haven’t even tried to spar again yet.”

“I’d love to try it!” Ahsoka offered after swallowing a too-large bite with some difficulty. Obi-Wan shook his head--ah, the young and growth-spurt-afflicted. “I’m sure Master Anakin would, too.”

“Tomorrow, perhaps,” Obi-Wan hummed. “We should have at least a week here on Coruscant.”

“There are… some other considerations, too,” Power said. “Having some stats would be helpful.”

“Stats?” Obi-Wan repeated.

“Top speed, height, length of flights, manoeuvres you can actually pull off--I hear you did a couple of rolls, which could be handy--whether or not you can carry anything while you fly…”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan sat back, blinking. “I hadn’t thought of that. It  _ is _ a good idea. And yes, I should be able to carry something while flying. I used to be able to, and they weren’t even full-grown back then.”

“We’ll have to test it,” Power said. “But for that, you need your strength.  _ Eat _ .” Obi-Wan fixed him with an exasperated, knowing look.

“ _ Honestly _ , Power, bribery?” But more of his food started making it to his mouth, and Power shared a quiet smile with Ahsoka.

* * *

They were almost finished with their meal when a familiar voice called out to them. “Obi-Wan!”

He looked up, grinning as he saw Garen. Relief flooded him--his crechemate was one of the few, he knew, who would do his best not to bring back painful memories.

After all, it had been primarily Garen and Bant who had held him when he got back, devastated by what he’d lost. He hadn’t even shown Qui-Gon the depth of how he’d felt--not when seeing how the evidence of what he’d lost had almost broken his Master so easily.

Garen slid in beside Obi-Wan on the bench easily, reaching out without a second thought to gently straighten a slightly angled feather before stroking down the wing.

“I’d heard rumors, but this is kriffing  _ amazing _ , Obi,” he said, his smile wide. “Have you tried em out yet?”

“I did indeed,” Obi-Wan said, and without conscious thought the wings unfurled slightly, the feathers puffing up. “They were quite effective.”

Garen laughed happily. “That’s fantastic! I’d love to see it again--maybe you could take a lap around the Room of a Thousand Fountains for us?” His eyes were wide and pleading, and Obi-Wan opened his mouth to agree before being cut off by Power.

“Ah,  _ no _ . Not before we get to the preening,” the medic said sternly, jabbing his fork at them.

“Oh, do you have someone to help with that? Bant’s out helping with the relief efforts on H’karr, but I could do it. I think I still remember.”

“I was actually going to be teaching these two after dinner,” Obi-Wan explained. “Your help would be… nice, if you have the time.”

“‘Course,” Garen agreed easily, smiling.

* * *

It would not, they realized quickly, be possible to preen in Obi-Wan’s quarters. There simply wasn’t enough room for him to spread his wings to their full length as he would need to, and so they quickly moved to the Room of a Thousand Fountains after all. Garen sat behind Obi-Wan, Power and Ahsoka on either side, showing them how to smooth the feathers, explaining quietly to them what they were doing.

“Just make sure that they’re all straight, at first. If there’s one that isn’t, you can use your fingers or one of the combs to set it right. If there’s a loose feather, just pull gently, it should come out on its own without hurting. When you straighten a feather or pull one out, you add just a bit of wax--eh, a little more than that’s fine, Ahsoka--and rub it in, always stroking down. The rest of the feathers we’ll use the big brush when we’re all done. The wings will produce wax on their own to waterproof the feathers and help the aerodynamics, we’ll just use the brush to spread it out evenly. That’s perfect, now, just a little pull, it’ll come right off.”

Obi-Wan felt  _ blissfully  _ content. Having his wings stroked was nice, but having them preened by people he loved was… infinitely better. His wings spread to their full length, his brood working to care for them, he let his eyes slip closed, a dreamy smile on his face.

“Projecting, you are.” Obi-Wan blinked his eyes open, his smile widening at Master Yoda hobbling towards them, an answering smile on his own wizened face. “Good to see you well, it is.”

Obi-Wan tried to answer, he really did, but all that came out was a low, pleased hum. Yoda cackled, settling himself down cross-legged in front of Obi-Wan. The tiny Master closed his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the Light and the happiness in the Force around them.

“There, all done!” Garen finally declared, but Obi-Wan didn’t move. His own eyes had also drifted shut again. Garen snorted.

“Uh, Master?” Ahsoka said. In her not-quite-whisper, she added to Garen, “Did we do something wrong?”

“No, that actually means we did it right. Preening usually turns him to mush,” Garen laughed, and then lightly scratched Obi-Wan’s back between the wings. His eyes opened.

“Hmm? Oh,” he drew his wings back in quick enough that it created a small breeze. “My apologies.”

“I’m just happy we did it right,” Ahsoka said.

“Might not be a bad idea for Commander Tano to teach a few of the 501st, too,” Power said slowly. “Since all too often we get mixed up in  _ their _ messes.”

“Hey!” Ahsoka protested, but there was more laughter than heat behind it.

“Not a bad idea,” Obi-Wan sighed, rolling his head from side to side to stretch his neck. “As with the 212th, anyone who’d like to is welcome.”

“Now that groomed, you are,” Yoda said pleasantly, “fly, you should. Like to see it again, I would.”

Obi-Wan’s grin was wide. He nodded. “That can be arranged.”

He stood up slowly, his body still lax from their ministrations, and stretched the rest of his limbs before walking off a few meters from them--it wouldn’t do to push them all over with the wind. Taking a deep breath, he bent his knees, and then leapt into a high, Force-assisted jump, his wings snapping out. He beat them heavily, gaining height as he climbed straight up, over the glade they’d found to preen in, over the taller trees, over the second-level bridge, until he was so close to the glass roof that he could see the traffic in the distance. It was night, now, but the artificial illumination  _ everywhere _ Coruscant meant that he had plenty of light for this.

Lazily, not wanting to push himself too hard at first (now that he knew this  _ wasn’t _ a dream, he wasn’t eager to injure himself and have to wait even  _ longer _ before he could fly again), Obi-Wan took a few laps of the dome. He let the smile on his face grow and launched into a few more complex movements. First, he tried the rolls again, allowing himself to angle down slightly, rolling again and again until he was close to the treetops, where he reached down to let his fingers skim the leaves before pulling up sharply.

It was then that Obi-Wan realized he wasn’t alone in the air anymore. He stopped in place, righting himself and beating his wings languidly to hover, watching his fellow flier. He smiled, recognizing Master Liik. Liik wasn’t humanoid, he was one of the few truly avian-type Jedi, his entire body, save for his face, covered in feathers and his mouth more beak-like than mouth-like, a crest of bright green feathers topping his head. Liik trilled at him, and then looked up at the ceiling. Understanding the instruction, Obi-Wan followed him to the top. He had just barely reached Liik at the very height of the dome when the other Master fell into a steep dive, gaining speed, his wings tucked close into his body.

Obi-Wan grinned. So  _ that’s _ how this was going to go.

Without hesitation, Obi-Wan gave chase. There was no wind, not in here, but the air rushing past him felt close enough, and he laughed brightly, falling down, down, down--

Obi-Wan and Liik spread their wings at the same time, catching themselves in a fiercely quick glide. As they approached one of the glass walls of the greenhouse, the two banked sharply left in unison, allowing the Force to guide and coordinate their movements.

They repeated the motion a few times, climbing higher and falling back down, until Obi-Wan’s grin turned impish. Tilting himself to one side, he began to spiral, and Liik matched him. This time, they were gliding around each other in tight, coordinated circles; if Obi-Wan had reached out, or if Liik had, they could have touched each other, they were so close. The spiral continued again until the last possible moment, when they broke off, each aiming back upward, wing-to-wing, then. Still in tight formation, they flew another few laps around the ceiling before Obi-Wan led their descent back to the glade, landing softly.

At some point during his flight, Anakin had joined them, and he was just as wide-eyed as Ahsoka, although he managed to keep himself still where she was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

“That was  _ amazing _ !”

“No wonder you terrified the Commander, if your first flight was anything like  _ that _ ,” Power grumbled, although he, too, had a wide smile on his face.

“It was a good flight,” Liik agreed, the voice modulator he wore around his neck to help him more-accurately imitate human speech making the words come out slightly electronic. “You are quite the predator.”

“Predator?” Obi-Wan chuckled. Liik cocked his head to the side, eyeing Obi-Wan carefully.

“You’ve never hunted?”

“Well, no.”

“Ah. You don’t know. Here.” Liik stepped forward, gently taking one of Obi-Wan’s hands in his claws, running them over the skin until he  _ pressed _ , just so, and--

Obi-Wan hissed at the sharp, but brief, pain, and  _ talons _ extended from the ends of his fingertips, coming from just beneath the ends of his more-human fingernails.

“That’s… new,” he said, studying them. They were a good couple of inches long, and using the fingers of his other hand, he reached out to feel them. They certainly  _ felt _ hard, and, he winced, sharp.

Ahsoka repeated her earlier assessment: “That is so  _ badass _ .”

“Ahsoka,” Anakin groaned.

“What? It is!” Ahsoka gave Anakin a  _ look _ , and he laughed.

“Okay, yeah, it is.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Obi-Wan laughed, and then turned back to Liik. “Ah, how do I…?”

Liik trilled again, though it was a higher-pitched noise than he’d made earlier--his version of a laugh. “Relax your hand.” Obi-Wan concentrated on relaxing the muscles, the tendons, and just as quickly as they’d appeared, the talons retracted.

“Thank you.”

Liik inclined his head, and Master Yoda spoke up: “Quiet, your instincts have been, without your wings. Return to you now, they will. Much you have to learn!” He cackled brightly again. “Wonderful to see, that was.” He stepped forward to pat Obi-Wan’s hand, drawing a content smile from him.

For the first time in almost two decades, Obi-Wan felt  _ right _ .

* * *

The happiness of the companionship and flight from the day before had faded away into mild frustration for Obi-Wan.

The following morning ( _ after _ he had been forced to eat a breakfast three times as large as he normally did by Power), his first stop had been to the Quartermaster. He didn’t particularly  _ like _ being bare-armed, preferring long-sleeves, and they managed to find tunics that would suit: a pair of simple slits running up from the bottom, leaving a sheath of cloth in the middle for his back, the fabric settling on either side of each wing, solved the issue of finding anything that his wings would fit in, and with the tabards and obi overtop, it held together perfectly. The Quartermaster promised to have more delivered to his quarters before the end of the day.

“I, ah, don’t know what you’ll do about a robe, however,” the Quartermaster said, eyeing his wings with rueful amusement. “Don’t think we have anything big enough to cover those in the stores.”

“Ah, well,” Obi-Wan sighed, waving a hand. “The wings will keep me warm enough for most places, and it will also solve  _ your _ problem of my routinely…  _ misplaced _ outerwear.” The Quartermaster chuckled, and Obi-Wan winked.

Then he’d headed off to the training salles, finding an empty room, and… that’s when the frustration set in.

He’d been at it for  _ hours _ and still couldn’t quite manage his usual grace. It was perhaps the thirtieth stumble he’d made, and he  _ knew _ these movements, he could usually perform them effortlessly, had been able to for over  _ twenty years _ , but now…

He sighed and returned to the starting position, but before he could begin the kata again, Anakin’s voice interrupted him.

“Want some help?” He grinned at his former Master, entering the salle fully. “Ahsoka mentioned you might want a sparring partner.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Judging from my performance just now, I’m not anywhere  _ near _ ready for sparring.”

“What’s the problem?” Anakin asked, already starting to stretch. If Obi-Wan didn’t want to spar, they could work through their katas together, at least.

“My balance is off.”

“Oh,” Anakin said, and then shook his head. “Yeah, I guess suddenly having two  _ massive _ wings appear on your back would knock you off-kilter.” He frowned thoughtfully then. “We could still  _ try _ sparring. Remember when I was trying to learn Djem So? I just  _ couldn’t _ get the katas, and I learned a lot better by sparring. It felt more natural. And I can go easy on you, if you’re worried.” He grinned broadly at Obi-Wan to show he was kidding; Obi-Wan huffed.

“It’s worth a try, I suppose.”

He waited for Anakin to finish limbering up, and then they faced each other and saluted, Anakin’s far more playful than Obi-Wan’s, as ever.

True to his word, Anakin held himself back some, as he would with Ahsoka when they sparred. Still, he struck fast and hard, the advantage of his chosen form, and drove Obi-Wan back. With a strike to Obi-Wan’s right side, he stopped his ‘saber just before it would have hit his arm.

“Side-to-side movement is most difficult for me,” Obi-Wan sighed. Anakin frowned.

“What if you stopped holding your wings back like that, and let them come out a little?”

Obi-Wan paused, thinking about it. He shrugged. “Worth a try.”

They began again, Obi-Wan relaxing his wings away from his back, holding them ever-so-slightly out to the side. It went much better this time, and they sparred lazily, the familiar routine comforting. Anakin struck overhead, then down low, then dashed out of reach; Obi-Wan’s defense, as it always was, was ever-present, waiting for the holes in Anakin’s techniques.

“Ready to kick it up a notch?” Anakin asked. In response, Obi-Wan gave him a grin that was slightly… feral, and Anakin blinked in surprise. That moment was all Obi-Wan needed to lash out, switching to Makashi on him, striking hard and fast with minimal movement, at Anakin’s torso. For a moment, it was all Anakin could do to keep up his own defense--his weakest area, he knew, despite Obi-Wan drilling him in Soresu  _ endlessly _ when he was a Padawan--and he switched tactics in response.

Anakin shifted his grip slightly, going into Ataru, and leapt, turning midair to strike  _ down _ at Obi-Wan--

Who was no longer there.

Anakin yelped as he was driven back to the ground suddenly by a light strike to his left shoulder, and looked up at where Obi-Wan was hovering, flapping his wings languidly. He looked just as surprised as Anakin felt.

“That’s so not  _ fair _ ,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan barked a laugh before tucking his wings back in to fall down to the ground, landing gracefully. “That was cool, though.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said slowly, still looking almost… puzzled.

“I think you’re overthinking this,” Anakin said. “You didn’t plan on doing that, did you? You just listened to your instincts?”

“Well, yes.”

“Okay. Just… do that, then.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Of course that’s your plan. I do like to be  _ prepared _ with at least  _ some _ idea of what I’m going to do, Anakin. Not all of us can just fly by the seat of our pants.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us can just  _ fly _ ,” Anakin retorted, rolling his eyes. Obi-Wan laughed, and a smile blossomed across Anakin’s face. Obi-Wan seemed… lighter. Happier.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Obi-Wan said slowly, and then he frowned.

“What?”

“I have a Council meeting in an hour,” Obi-Wan said slowly. “I was hoping to shower before, but… the ‘fresher in our quarters is a bit too… cramped.”

Anakin threw his head back and laughed, picturing Obi-Wan half-in, half-out of the shower at all times, trying to get his wings in there with him. After a moment, Obi-Wan joined him.

“The communal showers it is, I suppose,” he sighed.

“Master?” Anakin stopped him as he headed out.

“Yes?”

“We should do this again soon,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan graced him with another one of those bright grins he was now doling out.

“Yes, we should.”

* * *

While his fellow Councilors were the most serene, poker-faced Jedi Obi-Wan knew, they were also people who’d known him since he was a  _ youngling _ , and he wasn’t entirely surprised when they failed to contain their reactions to him.

Only Yoda, Mace, Adi Gallia, and Depa Billaba were actually present, aside from himself, the rest of the Council appearing by hologram. Mace and Yoda had already seen them, and Adi and Depa immediately perked up as he entered the Chambers, unabashed delight on their faces. He smiled at them, and tried to… behave normally.

“Am I late?”

“Almost,” Mace answered, and Obi-Wan nodded, settling himself down in his chair. Or--trying to. The chair’s seat was deep, and when he tried to lean back, the back of the seat was too high for his wings to sit comfortably either inside the chair’s confines or over the back. But perching on the edge of it was just as uncomfortable.

“A new seat, perhaps you need, hmm?” Yoda hummed, and then cackled, watching him scoot back and forth, trying to find a comfortable position. Obi-Wan shot him a light glare which only succeeded in making him laugh again.

Giving up, Obi-Wan huffed and moved to sit on the floor in front of his chair, allowing the lower portions of his wings to rest on the floor. It would do, for now.

“Now that that’s settled,” Mace said, and Obi-Wan glared at Plo Koon’s hologram as he snickered at the pun, “this Council is now in session. Shall we start with the obvious question first?” They all looked to him, and Obi-Wan sighed.

“The leader of the Night Sisters of Dathomir, Mother Talzin, was able to… restore them using something called the ‘Waters of Life.’ Frankly, I have no idea what she actually  _ did _ , as they insist on calling their Force powers ‘magic’ and explaining them in those terms.”

“I was under the impression that the Night Sisters were… not fond of Jedi,” Sassee Tiin said slowly. “Not that I am not pleased by what she did for you, but  _ why _ would she do it?”

Obi-Wan had thought, long and hard, about what to say to that. He had known the question would come, that his fellow Councilors were no fools and it was too obvious a question, and… He’d been conflicted. His instincts had told him to  _ hide _ Asajj, to keep anyone from pursuing her, as he suspected they may want to. But she was no threat to them, not anymore. Quite frankly, Obi-Wan doubted that she would ever leave Dathomir again.

He had wanted to  _ lie _ , and the only reason he had decided against it was that he could think of nothing  _ convincing _ to say. Well, that, and the fact that Cody and Waxer had forced themselves on the ship as well. He didn’t want them to have to lie for him.

“There were several factors,” Obi-Wan began. “The Night Sisters have a strict code of conduct, although they rarely choose to use it when dealing with outsiders. Mother Talzin seemed to find it… personally offensive, what had happened to them.”

And there it was, that sympathetic, distant pity as the old wounds were remembered. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think of the time when he had been before this Council to give his report after the incident. They had all looked so sorrowful, so perfectly horrified, but Obi-Wan hadn’t been thinking about the new scars on his back that stung whenever they were pulled, whenever he shifted. Obi-Wan hadn’t been thinking about Jenna Zan Arbor, what she had done or what would happen to her. Obi-Wan hadn’t been thinking about what he’d lost, and how much it had hurt.

He’d focused only on saving his Master. The Council could  _ not know _ what Qui-Gon had done to her, what he’d been planning on doing to her.

So he’d lied, and to this day Obi-Wan didn’t know if they genuinely had believed that there was no more to it than “there was an accident with the pressure systems on the Judicial ship she was on” or if they hadn’t questioned the story of how she came to be so injured simply because he had been a child--in  _ their care _ \--who had been grievously hurt.

Frankly, Obi-Wan hadn’t cared.

With some effort, he dragged himself back to the present. “Mother Talzin had decided that the Night Sisters… owed me a debt. She was quite insistent.”

“A debt for what?” Adi asked, frowning thoughtfully.

“Ah, well,” Obi-Wan said, stiffening slightly. “I… returned Asajj Ventress to them.”

There was a charged silence, and the disbelief-shock rolling from his fellow Councilors into the Force made him wince. He held up a hand to stay the protests he was sure were coming.

“Dooku ordered the ship fired on knowing that she was still on it,” Obi-Wan explained. “She realized she had been betrayed, and she was badly injured. She was dying, and although we managed to stabilize her on the  _ Negotiator _ , we all knew that she wouldn’t stay that way for long. Ventress insisted the Night Mother could help her, and so I took her back.”

“You saved her  _ life _ ?” Depa asked, eyes wide. Obi-Wan shrugged.

“It was the direction of the Force, I believe,” Obi-Wan said, “and it was the  _ right _ thing to do. As soon as Dooku fired on her, she had no cause to fight for but her own.  _ Her  _ path does not lead her into conflict with the Jedi, or the Republic as the Sith’s had. She is no danger to us anymore.”

“You truly believe that she won’t continue to see us as an enemy?” Mace asked.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said simply. “While I can’t say I see her becoming our  _ ally _ , either, she is… unlikely to bother us. And if  _ I _ , of all people, don’t think she’s a threat…?” The reminder of his capture and subsequent torture by her was… uncomfortable for the other Councilors. The look Mace gave him told him that he knew Obi-Wan had pulled that out just to play dirty. Obi-Wan smiled innocently at him.

There was further silence, broken eventually by Plo rumbling through his mask, “You are a better man than I am.”

Obi-Wan laughed and shook his head.

Mace nodded; he’d known it would go the way Obi-Wan wanted as soon as he’d played the guilt card. “Fine, then. As long as she does not interfere in the war, Republic affairs, or act against any Jedi, we will leave well enough alone.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was surprising--or entirely too predictable, depending on who you asked--that the first time Obi-Wan’s instincts reared their head in battle, it was for Commander Cody.

The fighting had been difficult, their position not ideal, but it had gone in their favor with minimal casualties. It was nearly over, in fact, when Obi-Wan heard the call over comms.

“ _Kriff, assassin droids! Must be the last line of defense for the base--we’re close to the entrance_.” That was Cody, and Obi-Wan continued to deflect stray blaster bolts even as he stopped to listen.

“ _Were you hit?_ ” And that was Crys, and Obi-Wan paused a moment to find out who and what the answer would be.

“ _Minorly_.” It was Cody. He’d been shot.

“I’ll just be a moment,” Obi-Wan replied. “This is your warning, Cody--I’m going up.”

“ _Negative, sir. We should proceed with the plan, you keep pushing around the side_ \-- **_kark_ **!”

Okay, that did it. Obi-Wan clipped his ‘saber to his hip and leapt up and spread his wings, higher than he’d like to be to see clearly what was going on down below, but it was easier to avoid being shot at if he flew higher. He flew over the battlefield toward the main barricade for the base where the Trade Federation official and Separatist General they’d been sent to capture were hiding, and there--he spotted Cody.

His Commander was on the ground, an assassin droid on top of him, trying to fight the metal beast off even as his brothers were powerless to help him, each fending for themselves against their own droid.

Something in Obi-Wan’s heart screamed _no_ . His vision narrowed, his head began to pound with the beat of his now-rushing blood, and he didn’t even feel it, didn’t even _realize_ when his talons emerged.

He dropped his wings to his back, falling fast, down, down, down. Some part of his mind was still screaming at him, a litany of _no, no, no, he is_ **_mine_ ** _, he is my_ **_flock_ ** _, my_ **_brood_ ** _, and you_ **_cannot have him_ ** _, you_ **_will not hurt him_ **\--

Some part of him was aware that he opened his mouth and-- _shrieked_ . It was a high-pitched noise, ear-splitting, and not something his human throat should have been able to produce. He did not process it, still in a spiral of _no, no, no, you_ **_will not hurt him_ ** _, he is_ **_mine_ **.

Just as Obi-Wan approached, Cody managed to throw the droid off, making it stumble back slightly. Obi-Wan changed his approach, throwing out his wings, tilting his upper body back, lifting both legs, and _slammed_ the droid in its chest, coming to land in a protective crouch between Cody and the assassin droid, his wings still spread. Before the droid could get back up, Obi-Wan leapt toward it, was on it in an instant. The impact had cracked its exterior, and Obi-Wan used his hands and the Force to pry the droid open. With his talons, he began _tearing_ at the machinery and wires inside.

He was looking for the heart. He knew, somewhere deep in his mind, something primal telling him, that a thing wasn’t truly _dead_ until you held its _heart_ \--

“I, uh, think you got it, sir,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan blinked, his vision clearing slightly, staring down at the droid. It was sparking, but unmoving, no lights behind its processing units that passed for eyes.

Obi-Wan whirled on Cody, then, forcing him--gently, but still insistent--to stand still, his hands running over every inch of Cody’s armor, grabbing on and holding him with surprising strength when he tried to move away.

“Uh, sir?” Cody started, and stopped when Obi-Wan _growled_ low in his throat.

“Remain still,” another voice said, and Cody looked up. It was General Liik. “He will release you when he’s finished, and he will not hurt you.”

“But what--” Cody paused as Obi-Wan lifted his arm, checking the underside. “--is he _doing_?”

“Making sure you are safe,” Liik said simply. “You are his flock. He has claimed you as his, and he will ensure that no harm comes to you. When he has reassured himself, you will be released.”

Well, _that_ was no answer at all. “Flock?” Cody repeated dully, and then he hissed as Obi-Wan found the wound in his side where the assassin droid had managed to graze him between two pads of armor. “I’m fine, sir. It’s nothing.”

Again, Obi-Wan simply growled at him, and Cody sighed.

“You remain here, with him,” Liik instructed Cody, who nodded wearily. As if he had a _choice_. “I will take these men inside and handle the capture of our quarry. They have spent their forces and will be lightly guarded now.”

“Right,” Cody agreed, and resigned himself to being thoroughly pawed at for the moment.

He felt a warm, tingling sensation where the blaster had hit, and looked down to see Obi-Wan’s hand pressed against it, his eyes closed. Force Healing.

“Really, sir, it’s fine, you don’t have to do that. One bacta patch and it won’t even scar,” Cody said mildly, but he got no response. Sighing again, he waited for his General to finish.

Once Obi-Wan had inspected every inch of him, he finally seemed to come back to himself. The disconcerting feral expression he’d been wearing faded to his normal serenity, though the talons didn’t recede, and he still held Cody’s arm in his hand.

“Are you, ah, good now, sir?” Cody asked. Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side, looking puzzled, and then he looked back to the assassin droid he’d ripped apart with his bare hands, and he flushed. He looked back at Cody, fixing him with a very sheepish expression.

“Ah, my apologies, Commander,” Obi-Wan said, flushing. “I… don’t know _what_ came over me.”

“General Liik said something about your flock.” Obi-Wan’s eyes widened.

“Oh.”

“What does that mean, sir?”

“For avian species, flock is… family,” Obi-Wan said slowly. “Either biological or… chosen.”

Well that was… A warmth bloomed in Cody’s chest.

“Oh. So I’m your…?”

“Well, yes.” Obi-Wan was scarlet red, and Cody laughed.

“Thank you,” he said simply, and Obi-Wan nodded.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Not at all,” Cody assured him. “I just hope none of the brothers saw that. They’ll be incorrigible.”

Obi-Wan laughed and, seeming to finally realize that he was still holding on to Cody, he let go, and retracted his talons. “Where is General Liik?”

“Inside, finishing up.”

“Oh. I’ll have to get this in check, if it affects mission objectives like this,” Obi-Wan sighed.

“Or just work with a plan A and a plan B. Plan A, no one needs saving, and plan B, when you start pawing at someone, they know to go on ahead without you,” Cody said with a shrug. Obi-Wan laughed.

“Pawing at someone? Surely it wasn’t that bad.”

“Every last inch of me, General,” Cody sighed. “For a tiny graze.” Obi-Wan flushed again, and Cody just snorted.

“It was… flattering.” He reached up and held Obi-Wan’s arm, the reverse of their contact just moments ago, and nodded. “Thank you.”

* * *

The first time it happened to Anakin was on Felucia. They were being forced back, Anakin at the fore, trying to allow the troopers to retreat and fire behind him from relative safety. A blaster bolt hit Anakin’s right arm, _exactly_ where it connected to the neural mesh, and it started sparking.

“Ow, _fuck_ ,” Anakin hissed, and quickly switched his ‘saber to his left hand. It was a good thing he’d been practicing jar’kai with Ahsoka, otherwise he wouldn’t be nearly as proficient with his left hand.

Siphoning the pain off into the Force, Anakin renewed his focus, going steadily backwards, deflecting shots and trying to ensure that he wasn’t in any of the men’s way.

And then he heard it: a long, high-pitched _shriek_.

“Oh, _no_ ,” Rex said, and Anakin wanted to turn to ask him what that was, but he didn’t get the chance.

Obi-Wan was there the next instant, coming in low and fast, just barely over the troopers’ heads. He didn’t stop when he hit the droids, picking up one by the arm in each hand, dragging them through their fellows and knocking over enough droids for Anakin’s troops to halt and start firing on them while they were downed, seizing the opportunity. Anakin stood there dumbly, watching as Obi-Wan flew in a loop, circling back on himself to reposition back at the front lines of the droids.

He… seemed to have forgotten that a lightsaber was a weapon that he had and should use. Even from where he was standing, Anakin could see the talons, _ripping_ into droids, tearing their heads off one by one, and grabbing and twisting and yanking their blaster arms off. A few droids got a little too close, and Anakin took a step forward, ready to help, but Obi-Wan… didn’t need it. His wings sprang forth again, and he flapped at them, the wind probably enhanced by a Force push, driving them back, stumbling into each other.

Anakin advanced with his troops, regaining some of the ground they’d lost--and then more, and then _more_ , and Anakin started to worry for Obi-Wan.

He was like… some sort of vengeful _god_ , raining down wrath and fury on the droids, supplemented by the shots of the troopers behind him. Anakin hung back a ways, knowing that his right arm was a lost cause until he could get back to the _Resolute_.

“ _Master, the droids are re-routing somewhere,_ ” Ahsoka reported over the comms. “ _I think they’re heading for your position._ ”

“Uh, yeah,” Anakin said dully. “Probably. They… found themselves with a sudden need for reinforcements over here.”

“ _Wizard_ ,” Ahsoka replied. “ _The troopers and I will follow them, that way we can box them in from both sides at your position_.”

“Roger that, Snips. Be careful.”

Obi-Wan finally seemed to remember his lightsaber, and that was even _more_ terrifying. He beat his wings, rising a few feet off of the ground, and now unhindered by something simple like _walking_ , he spun in circles, slicing through a head here, a chest there, then swooped low to strike at the legs of one droid after another as he flew by. For some reason, the droids weren’t swarming him, instead trying to back away, forcing themselves into the dense walls of the plants around them--probably some animal-related programming glitch. They’d observed them around natural threats before, and the droids seemed to be programmed to back up and shoot from afar. It was working to Obi-Wan’s advantage.

“Holy shit,” one of the troopers behind him breathed. They could just barely see the troopers Ahsoka was leading on the other side of the droids.

“This might just be salvageable,” Rex commented lightly, and Anakin laughed in disbelief.

Most of the troopers stood down after that, too bottlenecked by the tall vegetation to get a clear shot from around their brothers.

Even when Ahsoka broke the line of droids and they were only picking off the last of them, Obi-Wan didn’t _stop_.

He hacked the droids, one after another, until there were none left to be seen in the vicinity, and then he dropped his lightsaber carelessly to the ground. It winked out. He turned mid-air and flew back toward Anakin.

“That was really, uh, something,” he said, and then stopped as Obi-Wan laid a hand on either side of his face as he landed, careful not to touch him with his sharp talons. Obi-Wan stared at his face, his pupils blown too wide for the bright afternoon sun, and then tilted it from one side to the other, and then moved on to touching his chest, running his hands over the armor plating. “What are you doing?”

“Just… let him. That’s what General Liik told me to do the first time.” That was Cody; Anakin looked up. Obi-Wan’s Commander had his lightsaber clipped to his own belt--huh, he must have added a special attachment for it, since Obi-Wan seemed to lose it even more often than Anakin managed to.

“But what is he _doing_?”

“Making sure you’re alright,” Cody said with a shrug. “He’ll heal you, too, if he can.”

“No can do,” Anakin sighed, looking down at Obi-Wan with a raised eyebrow as Obi-Wan knelt and started running his hands over the entirety of Anakin’s lower body. And he meant the _entirety_ , and did he _really_ have to do this in front of everyone? Beside Anakin, Ahsoka giggled. “They hit my right arm. The mech’s fried, I won’t be able to fix it until I get back to the ship. It hurt some, when it sparked, but it’s fine now.”

Cody and Rex exchanged _looks_.

“What?” Anakin asked.

“He… doesn’t usually _stop_ until the injury is seen to,” Cody said grimly. “If it’s too severe, he’ll come around when we put ‘em in bacta, but… something like this…”

“So, you’re saying that he won’t _stop_ until we’re back on the ship?”

“Probably not.”

“ _Great_ ,” Anakin growled, and Ahsoka giggled again.

That was when Obi-Wan found his uselessly dangling right arm, and he frowned at it. Unceremoniously, he shoved the arm of Anakin’s tunic up, looking at where they attached, and he _growled_.

“Uh, Obi-Wan? Are you… good there?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked to his face, and then back down to the arm. He growled again.

“Yeah, he knows that’s not getting taken care of here,” Rex laughed. “We’ll take him to the _Resolute_ with us. You can have him back when he’s done with the _jai’galaar_ in him.”

Cody sighed, and nodded. “I’ll stay down here for now. We’ll fortify our position and make sure that was the last of ‘em.”

“I can stay with Cody to help,” Ahsoka offered, and Anakin nodded.

“Alright. I’ll… just go get my arm fixed up, I guess,” Anakin said slowly. There were a few chuckles.

* * *

It was difficult to fix his arm with Obi-Wan hanging off of him, Anakin realized. But he was too adrenaline high from the battle, too exasperated, and honestly too _touched_ to complain about it. Instead, he chattered away steadily at Obi-Wan while he worked.

“And, y’know, it probably wouldn’t have worked out as well as it did if you hadn’t gone full badass,” Anakin was saying. “Or at least, that’s how Ahsoka likes to put it. I swear, if I was half as much trouble as she is now, then I owe you more than a couple drinks. She’s good, though. Someday, she’ll be _great_ , I can almost see it. Or, I think maybe I have seen it? I’ve had dreams about her before--on the _Council_ . Can you imagine that? The Council hates me! For my own _Padawan_ to grow up to be on the Council would be… the greatest revenge _ever_ . I know, I know, a Jedi does not seek revenge, but _come on_ . The looks on their _faces_.”

Anakin laughed to himself and Obi-Wan seemed to settle slightly, his talons receding, although he was still crouched in a ready-stance next to the chair Anakin was occupying as he worked, one hand on Anakin’s thigh, and the other on his back.

“I still don’t know _what_ happened, though. What made you go all… y’know? Ah, you’re still not gonna answer me, okay. I get it. Even though I still have no kriffin’ clue what’s going on.” Anakin looked down at the mech arm sitting on the table and nodded. Now for the neural mesh.

He reached out to pull off the old one, but his left wrist was quickly grabbed by Obi-Wan, who growled at him. Anakin frowned. “Do you want to do it?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer, already moving, still keeping at least one hand on him at all times, until he was in front of Anakin instead of beside him. He gently peeled away the fried neural mesh with one hand while the other followed where it had just been lifted, sending light pulses of Force Healing into the skin.

“Huh,” Anakin said. “Thanks. That didn’t feel as bad as last time. I’ll have to find a better insulator, though, so this doesn’t keep happening. What about the new one? Feel like helping me put that one on? It’s easier when you’ve got both hands to do it, but that’s the whole reason I’m _doing it_ .” Again, Obi-Wan didn’t verbally respond, but he gently applied the new mesh to the stump of Anakin’s right arm. “Alright, we’re ready. Here goes nothing.” Anakin paused, looking down at Obi-Wan, whose pupils were still far too wide, a furrow between his brows, looking like he might bare his teeth and _shriek_ at any moment. “Look, I’m sure you already know, but this is gonna hurt. It always does. Please just… don’t freak out again?” Obi-Wan didn’t react at all except to move both hands to Anakin’s chest. Anakin sighed, and lined up the arm before initiating the connection.

A millisecond after the pain hit, so fast he almost didn’t _register_ the pain, Anakin felt like he was floating, like he was in space, expanding out to reach the stars, and he felt so _warm_ like he hadn’t since he’d been under the twin suns of Tatooine, and--

He came back into himself at the same time Obi-Wan seemed to. There was no lingering pain from the reattachment, and Anakin blinked at Obi-Wan. “Did you do that?”

“Apparently,” Obi-Wan murmured, finally removing his hands from Anakin’s person.

“Oh, thank the Force, you’re talking again.”

Obi-Wan flushed deeply. “I apologize for that. I know it’s… unnerving.”

“No, it was--okay, well, yeah, it was a little weird, but it was also good? I could tell how worried you were about me, and you helped, even if the methods were… a little strange. Thank you.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan murmured. “You’re welcome.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Anakin forming the mech fingers into a fist and then twisting the wrist back and forth. “Looks like it’s good as new,” he proclaimed, and Obi-Wan nodded. “Can you, uh, tell me _what_ that was?”

Again, Obi-Wan turned bright red, and Anakin tried hard not to smile, but to see his normally perfectly composed Master _blushing_ was… adorable, honestly.

“It’s… an instinct I’ve had difficulty controlling since getting my wings back.”

“Oh, like a protective instinct? That’s why you went all berserk back there and destroyed like a whole company of droids by yourself? With your bare hands?”

Obi-Wan was looking at him with wide eyes. “I did _what_?”

“Yeah, it seemed like it took you a while to realize you had a lightsaber,” Anakin laughed. “You were… really out of it, huh?”

“Something like that,” Obi-Wan sighed. “It tends to happen at the most _inconvenient_ times.”

Anakin laughed. “And this one kicked off ‘cause you felt me get hurt?”

“Yes.”

“So you went all… rage mode on a bunch of droids for _me_?” Anakin didn’t know how it was possible, but Obi-Wan turned even redder.

“Yes.”

“Wow,” Anakin said, grinning. “Is it for everyone? Random? Or just specific people?”

“I… mostly specific people,” Obi-Wan admitted bashfully. “Although it’s cropped up… unexpectedly, a few times.”

“Wow,” Anakin repeated, his smile growing even wider. He felt… special. He’d known Obi-Wan _cared_ , but it had always seemed like a more… distant sort of concern. Like he cared in the way that all Jedi cared if sentients were healthy, happy, and functional. Not… rip-droids-apart-with-his-hands _cared_. “Why those specific people?”

Obi-Wan was so, so red, and Anakin could practically feel the heat from his face from where he sat. Obi-Wan sighed. “It’s… my brood. My flock.”

“Flock like… family?” Anakin clarified. Obi-Wan nodded.

“Yes. People I’ve… claimed as mine.”

Anakin laughed brightly. “That’s… really nice, actually,” he said. Obi-Wan frowned at him, still blushing.

“It’s _attachment_.”

“Apparently it’s so natural to you that you have _instinctive reactions_ based on it,” Anakin retorted, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “I don’t see how even the rest of the Council could really argue with you on this one, if it’s just _instinct_. You can’t really Jedi yourself out of that.”

“‘Jedi’ is not a verb, Anakin. Still, I _am_ working on trying to control it,” he sighed. “As you’ve just had to witness, it can become… problematic.”

“It wasn’t really a problem, Obi-Wan,” Anakin assured him. “Next time will probably be a lot less weird, since I’ll know what’s going on.” Obi-Wan groaned at him. “What?”

“You just had to say ‘next time.’”

“Oh,” Anakin said, and then he snickered. “I’m sure there will be. Do you want to preen before we get you back to the _Negotiator_?”

“That sounds… lovely,” Obi-Wan said honestly. “Thank you.”

* * *

The first time it happened to Bail, no one was expecting it.

They were on Coruscant, for Force’s sake, in the middle of the Senate, and… Fine, so there had been a few _minor_ incidents in the Senate before.

But not quite like this.

Obi-Wan had woken to a _feeling_ , and had spent the first hour of his day meditating on it. It came from the Senate building, he found. Leaving Anakin a brief message, he set off immediately.

He hadn’t considered that no one here had yet _seen_ his wings. Not in person, anyway--somehow, there were holos from his battles floating around, showing him swooping down with a lightsaber like some kind of Fury. It was… embarrassing, to have himself plastered all over the Core like that, for propaganda.

Obi-Wan quickly realized that to get through this without having to endure any long, unwanted conversations (and fawning--that happened far too often for comfort), he had to look like he was here for a specific _purpose_. He took a deep breath and lengthened his stride, making it powerful and certain, his wings puffing up behind him to make himself seem larger, more intimidating.

Thankfully, it was _working_. Now he just had to decide where he was going.

He pondered the question for a moment, briefly considering going to find Padme--she had apparently told Anakin that she would just love to see his wings, and he had a good feeling that she wouldn’t just fawn over him when she saw him. They were still old _friends_ , after all.

Obi-Wan quickly discounted that idea. Anakin had been gone from their quarters when dawn broke, which meant that he’d never come back the night before, which meant he had spent the night with the Senator, and she would either be at the Senate already but desperately behind on work (because _Force_ knew nobody got much done when Anakin was around most of the time) or still at her apartment.

His grin widened as the answer came to him and he made his way to the office of Bail Organa, recently returned from Alderaan.

He was admitted quickly, and Bail’s aide only looked a _touch_ too long at his wings with wide eyes. He gave the young woman a wink on his way into the office, grinning to himself as he heard her _eep_ quietly behind him.

“Obi-Wan!” Bail greeted him happily. “Thank the Force--please tell me you’ve come to save me from all this paperwork.”

Obi-Wan laughed, and accepted the brief hug Bail offered. “Unfortunately not. I’m afraid the Jedi High General of the Third System Armies is currently _hiding_.”

“Hiding? From whom, may I ask?”

“Oh, just your colleagues.”

“Which ones?”

“...well, _all_ of them, I fear.” Obi-Wan grinned a little ruefully. “They’re all far too… interested in the, ah… my recent changes.”

“I see,” Bail said, and Obi-Wan could see his friend was trying very hard _not_ to look at his wings. Obi-Wan laughed.

“You can ogle them all you like, Bail. You could even touch them, if you wish to,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t mind quite so much when it’s people who _know_ me.”

Bail grinned at him and Obi-Wan obligingly turned around, unfurling them slightly; just enough for Bail to be able to see the scale of them, but Obi-Wan, truthfully, was afraid of knocking something over if unfolded them any farther. Bail had stacks of flimsi and datapads _everywhere_.

“They’re gorgeous,” Bail murmured, and Obi-Wan barely contained a shiver as his friend stroked one hand gently down each wing. “How did they…?”

“Oh, a witch gave them back to me,” Obi-Wan said lightly. “I used to have wings--I was born with them. They were… well, it’s a matter of public record, what happened to them. And yes, that is permission to look. I don’t mind if you _know_ , I just… would rather not talk about it.”

“I understand,” Bail murmured, and he stroked one wing again before stepping back. He gestured to one of the very comfortable couches in the office (they were comfortable, Obi-Wan knew, not simply because Bail was a Senator and Senators had to have nice things, especially for appearance’s sake, but also because far too often, Bail slept here). “I’m happy to spend time with you, although I must say I can’t understand why you’ve come; you could avoid my colleagues far better in the Temple. Unless the Order has sent you on some official business…?”

“Oh, not at all,” Obi-Wan said mildly. “I woke up with a _feeling_.”

Bail frowned. “A bad one?”

“Aren’t they always?”

“Right,” Bail sighed. “About me?”

“Well, no,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Just… centering on the Senate. I thought you wouldn’t mind if I kept you company until the session starts. I’ll be very quiet, I assure you; I plan to meditate to be able to catch the disturbance as soon as it arises.”

“Of course, you’re quite welcome.”

Obi-Wan smiled and nodded his thanks, and then folded his legs beneath him and sat up straight. Closing his eyes, he slipped into a deep meditation, carefully monitoring the Senate complex.

He was roused by a hand on his arm. He opened his eyes; Bail was standing before him, his heavy cape now on. “It’s time, the session is about to begin. Nothing yet?”

“Not yet, no,” Obi-Wan sighed. “It’s… illusive. But something is coming.”

Bail nodded, and they walked toward the Senate room together, where they parted ways. Bail went to the Alderaanian box, and Obi-Wan to the box reserved for the Jedi. It was empty save for a Senior Padawan.

“Padawan Udaar, yes?” he asked, and the Padawan jerked his head up from the datapad he’d been reading, his boredom clear as he sprawled in his seat. He was the poor Padawan assigned to take notes on the sessions for the Order, since reading the minutes was tedious and lengthy business.

“Master Kenobi! Uh, yes, I am.”

Obi-Wan nodded and smiled reassuringly at him. “Do you mind if I sit in with you?”

“Oh, not at all!” The Padawan brightened and sat up a little straighter. As the session commenced, Obi-Wan knew that Padawan Udaar was watching him more than the proceedings, but he allowed the boy his scrutiny as he watched the Senators like a hawk.

And then Alderaan was recognized to speak, and Bail’s pod floated forward. He was the sole occupant.

The bad feeling became a solid _warning_.

“Padawan Udaar,” Obi-Wan said, still watching Bail.

“M-Master?”

“If anything should happen in the next few minutes, I need you to _lift_ that pod. Do you understand me?”

“Lift it? It’s… already floating.”

“For now,” Obi-Wan replied calmly. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master. I can do that.”

“Good.”

Obi-Wan was right. A single shot rang out, and then another, interrupting Bail’s speech about the treatment of sentient beings on a backwater planet called Adakka.

The shot did not hit Bail, but it _did_ hit the pod. Obi-Wan grimaced; it must have hit one of the repulsors. The pod wobbled dangerously, and Obi-Wan growled, “ _Padawan Udaar._ ”

“Yes, Master!” The boy overdid it. Of course he did--when he steadied the pod, Bail, who had already been clinging to the edge, fell from the jolt.

And Obi-Wan felt the now familiar _pulse_ , and his last higher-level thought was _oh dear_.

A high-pitched, keening, unnatural _wail_ tore from his throat as his wings spread. The noise silenced the panicked bleating of the other Senators. Some part of his mind told him that he could have just used the Force to stop Bail from falling, but it was far too late for _that_.

The blood-fever had taken over.

Obi-Wan leapt from the pod, his wings beating, his talons erupting, and then collapsed his wings in on himself, diving down for Bail. He caught him easily and then spread his wings again, flapping them languidly now, driving them higher and higher until they were back at the Senator’s entrance to his pod. Obi-Wan handed him off to his security leader, for the moment, and then turned and flew up again. He’d seen where the shots had come from.

Caring little for the property damage he was about to do, Obi-Wan used his talons to _rip_ the grate from high up in the ceiling and pulled out an assassin droid. His talons slashed out, destroying the droid’s blaster arm connection. It still held its weapon, a long-range sniper rifle, but could not fire.

“Who sent you?” he growled.

“I am programmed to kill Bail Organa of Alderaan.”

“Who programmed you?”

“I am programmed to kill Bail Organa of Alderaan.”

Realizing he would get no answers from the droid, he unceremoniously ripped its head off as well, taking the head in one hand and the body in another. He glided back down to the entrance to the Alderaanian Senate pod and dumped the remains of the droid at the security officer’s feet.

“Thank you, my friend,” Bail said, sounding shaken. Obi-Wan growled and--gently--grabbed Bail’s arm.

“Oh my.” Bail and his security officer looked over at the new voice; Obi-Wan did not, still scrutinizing Bail.

“Padme,” Bail greeted her, sounding relieved.

“You’re going to want to get back to your office as quickly as you can,” Padme said in a rush. “He’s… well, Obi-Wan is not himself right now, and he won’t be until he’s made sure you’re unharmed. Anakin told me about it.”

Bail reached out and clasped Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “I’m _fine_ , Obi-Wan. Thanks to you. I’m alright.”

Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side and then growled again, reaching for Bail. He looked to Padme again, exasperated.

“So, my office?” Bail tried to take a step, but Obi-Wan’s hands stopped him. “Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan,” Padme said gently. “Listen to me, no one is going to take Bail from you right now, okay? But we need to go back to his office, _now_. You can check on him there.”

Finally, Obi-Wan nodded curtly, keeping one hand on Bail’s arm, marching the Senator along next to him. He wrapped one wing protectively around him.

When they got to Bail’s office, he waved away his now-jumpy security officer (“There’s nothing you could have done about what happened, but I _do_ need you to go take care of the mess out there, if you would. I’ll be with the most overprotective Jedi I’ve ever _met_ \--I’ll be fine.”), although he allowed Padme to stay, since she seemed to know more about what was going on with their friend than he did.

Obi-Wan proceeded to touch him _everywhere_ , and by the end of it, Bail was flushed. Padme looked like she was trying to hold back gales of laughter.

Finally, the examination stopped, and Obi-Wan blinked several times, staring into Bail’s face. His pupils slowly shrank back down to normal size.

“Better?” Bail asked, and Obi-Wan nodded. “What was that?”

“I…” Obi-Wan was _blushing_ , actually _blushing_ , and Bail hadn’t even managed to get him to blush that one time he’d had dinner with both Bail and Breha and the two had propositioned him. (He had, sadly, declined, although very gracefully and he’d left the door open to entertaining it in the future.)

“Anakin said it’s a protective flock instinct?” Padme prompted, and Obi-Wan turned slowly, his eyes wide. He hadn’t realized she was there, he’d been so focused on Bail.

“Well, yes.”

Padme giggled. “Is it true that the first time it happened, you tried to rip out an assassin droid’s heart for far too long before realizing they don’t have one?”

“Well… yes.”

“And then you did the same thing to your Commander that you just did to Bail.”

“...yes.”

“Anakin’s gotten it, too,” Padme told Bail before turning back to Obi-Wan. “Is it true you ripped apart a battalion of droids with your _hands_?”

“Well… That is…” The blush was spreading--even the tips of Obi-Wan’s ears and the back of his neck were bright red. Bail thought it was endearing. “It wasn’t a _full_ battalion, and I remembered I had a lightsaber about halfway through.”

Padme threw her head back and laughed.

Bail shook his head slowly, a wide grin on his face. “Whatever that was, Obi-Wan,” he said slowly, “ _thank you_ . Your bad feeling apparently _was_ about me.” Bail grinned wickedly. “Although I must say, that’s not what I was hoping for when I once told you that I wouldn’t mind your hands all over me.”

Padme sat in shock for a long moment before collapsing into giggles.

Obi-Wan’s blush didn’t recede for a long, _long_ while after that encounter.

* * *

The first time it happened to Ahsoka, it wasn’t funny.

They were on Geonosis ( _again_ , and that’s just _fucked up_ , although Ahsoka wasn’t going to say that out loud because she _knew_ what kind of lecture she’d get if Skyguy heard), and Obi-Wan had been… _off_ since they landed. Again, Ahsoka didn’t say anything, because she didn’t know if it was just… the memories of what had happened there before, and she knew it wasn’t good to bring up stuff like that. _Especially_ not with Master Obi-Wan.

But her Master knew him better, and was braver (and more _reckless_ ) than she was.

“Bad memories, or a bad _feeling_?” Anakin asked Obi-Wan bluntly. Obi-Wan had sighed and rubbed his temple.

“Just a feeling.”

“But it’s a bad one.”

“Oh, dreadful,” Obi-Wan replied, tone light and teasing, but the storm behind his eyes anything but. Anakin nodded.

“Alright. We’ll be extra careful.”

It was about an hour into the fighting when things on Anakin’s side suddenly went south. There were _four kriffing Jedi_ and _two Padawans_ on the planet, how could it have gone so wrong?

But it happened so suddenly Anakin didn’t have time to figure out _how_. The droids stopped shooting, suddenly going perfectly still, and Anakin and his men had frozen, but still ready, still watching with a wary eye.

“Skywalker.” Anakin looked up at the voice--there, high up above them, standing on one of the ledges of the factory, was Dooku. “Lost something?”

And then he was shoving Ahsoka forward roughly, her hands in binders and what Anakin could only suspect was a Force collar around her neck. His heart lurched.

They hadn’t known Dooku would be here, _again_ , but that didn’t keep Anakin’s mind from chanting _my fault-my fault-Ahsoka is going to die and it’s_ **_all my fault_ **\--

“Perhaps you would like her back?” Dooku called, and then--

He shoved her over the edge.

The battledroids began firing again, but Anakin was focused on Ahsoka. Rex roughly shoved his General behind him, giving him cover from the fire, hoping he was about to use the Force to catch her.

But… she was _so far away_ , and even as powerful as Anakin was… Well, his Master had been right, and his fine control of the Force still _really_ needed work. Maybe they would _both_ be practicing lifting rocks--if she made it back to the Temple...

But he tried, and seemed to be slowing her, but not _enough_ , and--

His heart nearly burst with relief when he heard the now-familiar shriek. Ahsoka was still falling, but now it seemed like it was happening in slow motion. A flash of copper flew at her, and then _Obi-Wan caught her_ , and Anakin laughed in relief.

He heard a few of the men call out: “ _Jai’galaar_!”

It suddenly occurred to Anakin that he’d never actually _seen_ Obi-Wan fly with anyone before, even though he thought he’d heard something about him catching Bail once when he fell. He hoped Ahsoka wasn’t too heavy, that they could actually--

But then there they were, gliding fast over the men toward Anakin, Ahsoka’s eyes wide, her body cradled to Obi-Wan’s chest protectively.

Obi-Wan stopped, hovering over Anakin, and he got the message, disengaging his ‘saber and holding out his arms. Obi-Wan carefully lowered her, his feet still not touching the ground.

“Mind my hatchling,” Obi-Wan ordered, and then he was gone again, shooting off back over the battlefield, back toward the balcony Dooku had just come from.

“Oh no,” Anakin breathed. He set Ahsoka down, pleased to note that she was only shaking a little bit and seemed otherwise unhurt, and ignited his ‘saber again and carefully cut off the collar and cuffs as he activated his battalion-wide comms.

“Obi-Wan is going after Dooku,” he said. “And he’s not… himself, right now.”

“ _Please clarify,_ ” Luminara’s voice came, calm and steady, but tinged with concern.

“Dooku went after Ahsoka--she’s fine, but Obi-Wan had to catch her before she fell. Dooku tried to hurt one of his _flock_.”

“Oh, _kriff_ ,” Cody said, and nobody reprimanded him for his unbecoming language on open comms.

“ _Everyone, hand your assignment over to your Commanders for now. We will have to go after them. Will Commander Tano be able to coordinate between the detachments and relay the battle’s progress to us while we are inside?_ ” Ki-Adi-Mundi asked.

That was a… nice of him. It was an important task, to be sure, but it would also keep Ahsoka out of all of the fighting, manning the comm station back behind the front from a gunship. Fairly protected, but not taken out of the fight entirely--she would hate it if they tried that and probably do something stupid, like try to follow them. Anakin’s respect for the Councilor ratcheted up a notch.

He looked to Ahsoka, raising an eyebrow. She took a deep breath and nodded, and activated her own comm.

“I’ll be fine, Masters. I’ll fall back to the gunship,” she said, and Anakin gave her a grin and squeezed her shoulder before running into the factory with Force-enhanced speed.

* * *

Obi-Wan Kenobi was… not what Dooku had expected. He was also not the same man Dooku had met that first time on Geonosis, either.

As Obi-Wan rounded the corner, facing him down across a long hallway, Dooku turned to face him. This was as good a place as any. He raised an eyebrow, taking in the sight of the man.

His hair was mussed, most likely from the aerial acrobatics he’d just performed, and there was something… _wild_ about the look of him.

The wings, though, were absolutely beautiful.

Dooku said so. “Qui-Gon always told me they were lovely. It is a pleasure to see your wings in person.”

Obi-Wan made no reply except to extend his talons and continue taking long, purposeful strides down the hallway. Dooku’s other eyebrow rose to join its mate.

“He did tell me, of course, about what had happened to them,” Dooku said, hoping that this would garner at least _some_ reaction. Riling the great, famous, ever-calm Obi-Wan Kenobi was one of his guiltiest pleasures. “He even told me what he did after.”

Again, nothing. Dooku stifled a frown and smiled instead, far too sweetly. “We could have been on the same side, if he’d lived. He would have joined me. He always had the power in him.” Still the same silence, and Dooku finally sighed and drew his ‘saber, not igniting it yet, but holding it ready. “You rarely pass on an opportunity to trade verbal blows, Master Kenobi.”

“She is _mine_.” Dooku blinked, and then a slow grin spread across his face.

“Ah, but that is _attachment_ , is it not? ...perhaps even you, too, could join me.”

“You will not touch her. You will not touch _any of them_ . I will tear out your heart before you hurt my flock. They are _mine_.”

Dooku tilted his head to the side. “If I promised that none of them would be harmed, would you join me?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth again, but what came out of it this time was not _human_ . The same shriek he’d heard outside was now being blasted at him, echoing off of the bare walls. It was _ear-piercing_ , and it went on for far too long; Dooku held back a wince, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Obi-Wan continued his forward advance.

Dooku ignited his ‘saber with one hand and raised the other, shooting lightening at him. He laughed in exhilaration, the same thrill he felt every time he let loose the fury of a Sith storm, fully expecting Obi-Wan to deflect it with his ‘saber.

He did not.

Instead, his wings unfurled and then curled around his front, absorbing the lightning seemingly-harmlessly.

Dooku blinked, his only show of surprise. That was… new.

He ended the storm. No need to waste his energy on a tactic that would have no use against him. He twirled his ‘saber, waiting a beat for Obi-Wan to ignite his. He didn’t. Dooku’s brow furrowed again. What was he _planning_?

Once Obi-Wan was a few scant meters away, Dooku surged forward with his ‘saber. Obi-Wan dodged, but still did not ignite his own lightsaber. Dooku struck again, and again, Obi-Wan swiftly moved out of the way--going up. His wings beat hard until he’d positioned himself just above Dooku. Finally, Obi-Wan lit his own ‘saber, and then tucked his wings back, falling straight down onto him.

Dooku blocked it, Obi-Wan’s ‘saber falling onto his raised one, but Dooku did _not_ expect for Obi-Wan to use that as leverage, swinging his knee as he came down to hit Dooku squarely in the chest before landing gracefully. He stumbled back, the air knocked from his lungs, and that was all it took.

Obi-Wan held his ‘saber in his right hand, his wings slightly extended behind him to either side, raining down a furious flurry of Makashi strikes even as his left hand began to swipe at him. The irony of his own form being used against him was not lost on Dooku.

Dooku hissed as the talons landed a hit to his shoulder, scratching deeply.

Dooku fought back, using the Force to push Obi-Wan away from him. Again, Obi-Wan used the move to his advantage, unfurling his wings and using the momentum like wind, carrying him up, until he flapped hard twice, positioning himself close to Dooku, so close that even Dooku, a Master of the form meant for close quarters, could not use his ‘saber for fear of harming himself.

Obi-Wan’s talons reached out again, this time scoring across his face, one of them _digging_ into his eye.

Dooku cried out in pain and shock, reeling back, but Obi-Wan was there again, pressing ever forward--

Obi-Wan dropped his ‘saber, two sets of those talons reaching out for him, and Dooku knew he needed to create distance and his mind whirled to figure out _how_ , and Obi-Wan’s right hand scratched once, twice, three times at Dooku’s chest, shredding his tunic and tearing his skin.

His words came back to Dooku, unbidden: _I will tear out your heart_.

Ah, so _that_ was his plan.

“Obi-Wan!”

The distraction of Skywalker calling out to him, making Obi-Wan pause briefly and look over his shoulder, was all that Dooku needed. He turned tail and ran toward the balcony, leaping from it; he could take one of the speeders he had hidden on the first level and be off before they could follow, no doubt wanting to see to Obi-Wan first.

Obi-Wan growled and made to follow Dooku out the window, but Anakin reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan froze, his body trembling.

“Obi-Wan, _stop_ ,” Anakin pleaded. “If you kill him like this, it will be _revenge_. I don’t want that for you.”

Obi-Wan growled again, and then said, “I promised him I would tear his heart out.”

The Force radiated cold shock from Luminara and Ki-Adi-Mundi.

“I know, I know, for Ahsoka, to keep her safe,” Anakin said soothingly. “But we have another objective, remember? The whole reason we’re even _here_ ?” Obi-Wan growled again, still looking at the balcony Dooku had leapt from. “And some day, we _will_ kill Dooku, but we’ll do it together, and we won’t do it for revenge, alright?”

They stood in silence for a moment. Ki-Adi and Luminara held their breaths; Obi-Wan sounded ragged, and Anakin wasn’t much better.

“...you are not watching my hatchling,” Obi-Wan said slowly, and then he shrugged off Anakin’s hand, turning back the way he’d come, and flew off.

“...well, at least he’s not going after Dooku,” Anakin sighed, running his flesh hand through his hair. He activated his comm. “Ahsoka, what’s the situation?”

“ _Almost got the last of the droids on the north side, Master. After that, it’ll be pretty calm out here, and I doubt we’ll have much resistance just using standard heavy artillery on the factory. That should take care of it_ ,” she reported.

“Good. Listen, Obi-Wan’s coming for you. He’s in… flock-mode.”

“ _Oh. Roger. I’ll hand the comm over to Waxer, then, and… prepare for incoming._ ” She giggled, and Anakin would have smiled if he hadn’t realized that she was crashing from the adrenaline high and about to feel pretty shaken up. He closed the channel and looked at the two Masters in front of him.

“I’m… guessing you haven’t seen that before?”

“No.”

“...and you probably want some answers?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“And I don’t suppose you’ll wait until Obi-Wan can give them?” he asked hopefully. They both fixed him with a stern _look_ , and he sighed. “Um. The way Master Yoda explained it is that when Obi-Wan didn’t have his wings, his ‘instincts were quiet.’ I guess… getting his wings back… triggered some stuff. The people closest to him--usually people with bonds with him, I think--he’s claimed as his ‘flock.’ When something happens to one of those people, he… does _that_.”

“That is… concerning,” Luminara murmured.

“It’s only ever been against droids before,” Anakin was quick to say. “The first time was an assassin droid, and the first time it was… for _me_ , he destroyed an entire battalion on Felucia. There have been other incidents, I know, with the 212th, but it was… only ever droids. But… Dooku is _Dooku_ , and Ahsoka…” Anakin shrugged, lost for words, not knowing how to explain that sometimes, it felt like Obi-Wan was her Master just as much as he was. Wanting to drive his point home, he continued, “And he feels _terrible_ about it after, and he doesn’t even really remember too much of it. And Master Liik has been trying to… guide him.”

“I see,” Ki-Adi said slowly, and then he nodded decisively. “He will likely have to speak to the Council of Reconciliation about this particular event, and see a Mind Healer for evaluation, but… he _did_ stop, which indicates it _can_ be controlled. We will need to put proper… precautions in place against another incident like this until he can manage them on his own, but I see no reason to take him from the field.”

Anakin sagged in relief. That all sounded… reasonable. Far more reasonable than he’d expected from the Council. Again, he found his respect for them growing just a bit. Grabbing the ‘saber Obi-Wan had discarded on the floor, he followed the Masters out of the factory.

Time to blow shit up.

* * *

Anakin found Obi-Wan and Ahsoka on the _Resolute_ , in the quarters they’d given her right next to his own. Ahsoka was pressed against his chest and both Obi-Wan’s arms and wings were wrapped around her. Both of them were asleep. Anakin smiled at the sight of it.

“I won’t let you Fall, Master,” Anakin whispered softly. “Like you did for Qui-Gon. I’ll help you, and we’ll be okay.”

With a soft smile, he set Obi-Wan’s ‘saber down on the bedside table and slipped from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jai'galaar is the Mando'a word for a shriek-hawk.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this took a hard left turn. I'll be honest, this is not the direction I was expecting to go, but I wrote over 5k words this chapter and I'm not taking it back.

Anakin didn’t have to go searching for Obi-Wan the next morning; Obi-Wan found him in his quarters. Anakin was verbally dictating his report to R2, who would transfer it to a datapad for him to turn in to the Council, while he fiddled with his personal commlink, trying to boost the signal. It was nice, being able to talk to Padme while she was still on Coruscant, and he was out on campaigns, but it would be even  _ nicer _ to be able to actually see her. But personal commlinks rarely had the signal strength that military or Jedi transmissions did--hence the upgrades. Once he figured his out, he’d do the same for Padme’s, and Anakin estimated they’d be able to get holos from a couple of systems away from each other (without misuse of Republic resources, which Anakin did sometimes stoop to, piggybacking off the signal the  _ Resolute _ got).

His door chimed, and he absently told R2 to halt recording. “It’s open,” he called.

Obi-Wan looked… awful. He was paler than usual and leaning against the wall just outside the door, like he wouldn’t have been able to hold himself up otherwise. And his wings… they looked almost  _ limp _ .

Anakin rose, the pieces of the commlink he’d been holding discarded on his desk, forgotten for the moment, as he walked over to grab Obi-Wan’s arm, dragging him into the room and gently pushing him down to sit on Anakin’s bed.

“You look like bantha shit,” Anakin said, frowning at him. Obi-Wan laughed, but even  _ that _ sounded tired.

“I… don’t feel at my best at the moment,” Obi-Wan admitted.

“I’m not surprised,” Anakin said, raising an eyebrow at him, folding his arms over his chest. “You  _ did _ try to take on Dooku by  _ yourself _ yesterday.” Obi-Wan winced. “You were doing… surprisingly well, for forgetting you had a lightsaber.  _ Again _ .”

“I used it,” Obi-Wan protested faintly. “And then it was… no longer necessary.”

“Still, you didn’t even look this bad after Geonosis the  _ first _ time,” Anakin sighed. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Some of it.  _ Most  _ of it, I’d guess.” Obi-Wan shifted ever-so-slightly, and Anakin glowered at him. That looked like  _ guilt _ .

“I’ll give you a choice,” Anakin said slowly, flatly. “You can tell  _ me _ what you remember, or I can give you back to the  _ Negotiator _ so Power can take a look at you.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. “I… might have encountered Dooku’s lightning.”

Anakin groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “And I’m guessing that’s  _ not _ when you used your ‘saber?” Obi-Wan shook his head minutely. “So you just… let it hit you?”

“...apparently my wings can absorb it with minimal damage,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Although it’s… very draining.”

Anakin huffed a sigh and uncrossed his arms, reaching up to tug his flesh hand through his hair. Padme had been trying to break him of that habit--“It’s a nervous gesture, Ani. Anyone who spends enough time with you will realize that, and it’s better  _ not _ to give them any more ammunition than they already have.”

“Yeah, I’m still going to have Power take a look at you, then,” Anakin sighed. “He’s probably already going ballistic knowing you squared off with Dooku yesterday and didn’t come in for a check-up.” Obi-Wan sighed and shrugged.

“I doubt I can avoid it,” he murmured. “I’m sure he’ll get one look at me and he’ll strap me to a stretcher until he’s satisfied I don’t need a bacta tank.” Obi-Wan grimaced. “Not that there are any large enough on  _ either _ of our ships.”

“Oh,” Anakin said dumbly, frowning. He hadn’t thought of that. “We’ll have to make sure that’s fixed. Maybe while we’re on Coruscant we could get it done.”

“The  _ Resolute  _ has also been ordered back?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin nodded slowly.

“I, uh… the Council wants to talk to me in person about what happened,” Anakin admitted. Obi-Wan winced. “I don’t think it’ll be too bad, though. Master Mundi said that… well, they’ll probably want you to see a Mind Healer for an evaluation and talk to the Council of Reconciliation, but that’s pretty much it.”

“That is… generous.”

“Well, he  _ did _ also say something about ‘precautions,’ so… I think you’re going to have a babysitter for a while.” Anakin gave him a sympathetic grin, but Obi-Wan actually seemed… relieved.

“That is… probably wise. I do not enjoy the loss of control.”

“Hopefully, it’s someone you like, at least,” Anakin sighed, and then he tilted his head thoughtfully. “I talked to Padme after that… thing in the Senate, with Bail. She said that she had to try to reason with you, then, and you listened to her. And Cody pointed out that the droid was down, that first time, and you listened to him, and you listened to  _ me _ on Geonosis.”

“While it  _ is _ comforting to know that I can be ‘reasoned with,’” Obi-Wan drawled, “I would very much appreciate being able to  _ control myself _ .”

“I know, but I was just thinking that, in the meantime… it sounds like everyone you listen to while you’re… not yourself is someone you’re close to.”

“My flock,” Obi-Wan realized slowly, and Anakin nodded, and then smiled slightly. It was… comforting, knowing for  _ sure _ that Padme was considered part of his flock, that his Master cared so much about the woman Anakin loved so fiercely himself.

“Yeah. Maybe we can get the Council to assign one of them to you, until you can… work through it yourself,” Anakin suggested, and Obi-Wan nodded slowly.

“That’s not a bad idea, although it may prove more difficult than I’d like. Most of my ‘flock’ are either not Jedi or, they  _ are  _ Jedi, and are terribly busy with their own commands.”

Anakin nodded, unconcerned. They  _ would _ figure something out, and ideally, he could convince the Council that  _ he _ needed to stay with Obi-Wan, at least as much as he could. More than anyone else, he didn’t want a repeat of the episode with Dooku. “We’ll figure something out, I’m sure. For now, though, is there… anything I can do to help? You’re  _ oozing _ misery in the Force, Obi-Wan.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I don’t quite have the energy to maintain my shields at the moment.”

“That’s okay,” Anakin said, and then paused. “I can help with that. I can lend you a bit of my energy--we both know I’ve got it to spare--and help you put your shields back up.” Obi-Wan hesitated, and Anakin frowned. “Look, you’ve been… getting better about it, but you’re still absolutely  _ shit _ at accepting help. I  _ get it _ , I do, but… just let me do this for you, okay?”

Finally, Obi-Wan nodded. “Thank you.”

* * *

For once, Anakin was before the concerned and judgmental stares of the Council, and it wasn’t being directed at  _ him _ . It was… strange. Especially since they were discussing  _ Obi-Wan Kenobi _ , his perfect Master, the Golden Boy of the Council and the Order. His seat was conspicuously empty. Anakin held back a huff, thinking about how everything in his world seemed to have turned on its head after Obi-Wan showed up with his wings.

He dragged himself back to the present, hearing Obi-Wan’s voice in his mind: “ _ Keep your focus on the here and now, Padawan _ .”

“And you are  _ certain _ that no other incidents have been against a sentient being?” Mace was asking, and Anakin nodded confidently.

“Very. I put together a list with Commander Cody’s help of every ‘incident’ he’s had so far. They’ve  _ all _ been against droids, up until Geonosis.” Mace nodded.

“Thank you, Knight Skywalker. You may go, and we will discuss the matter.”

Anakin didn’t move. “Masters, if I may…?” Yoda’s lips quirked at that. For  _ once _ , he was doing his best to be polite and diplomatic. When it was his  _ own _ fate he was fighting for, he didn’t hesitate to argue with them, to let his righteous fury take over.

But this was  _ Obi-Wan _ .

“Something to add, you have?” Yoda prompted, and Anakin nodded.

“Yes, Masters. I’ve noticed that Obi-Wan is already getting better at… handling this,” he said. “The first few times, he would only… sort of listen to the people around him, but he wouldn’t respond at all. Well, not… with words.” Anakin thought of how Obi-Wan had kept  _ growling _ at him when his arm had been busted on Felucia, and stifled an amused grin. “But he’s gotten better, since then. On Geonosis, he was  _ himself _ enough to respond, at least. That’s progress.”

The Councilors hummed or nodded along thoughtfully before Stass Allie broke in. “Is it true that he said he ‘promised he would tear Dooku’s heart out?’”

Anakin’s own heart sank into his boots.

“I… well, yes. He did,” Anakin said. He wasn’t sure if he should tell them that he’d tried to rip the heart out of an assassin droid, that first time. He didn’t know if that would be a  _ good _ thing, or if it would just drive home the point that Obi-Wan was losing the ability to distinguish between droids and  _ people _ …

He was spared having to decide when Ki-Adi spoke up. “I have spoken to Master Liik for insight into this matter. He informed me that that is a common reaction in predatory species. Their instincts tell them that a thing is not truly dead until you have taken its heart. I believe Obi-Wan’s actions were driven far less by any cruelty than simple instinct.”

“We all know he doesn’t have a  _ cruel _ bone in his body,” agreed Adi Gallia, sighing heavily. “But even so, we  _ must _ ensure this is brought under control.” The assembled Councilors nodded their agreement.

“I have a suggestion, Masters,” Anakin said, keeping his tone even, his voice deferential and respectful. Well, as much as he could manage. Mace waved a hand at him in invitation. “Master Mundi and I briefly discussed possible next-steps on Geonosis, immediately after… the incident. He suggested taking ‘proper precautions,’ which I agree with, and Obi-Wan does as well. We think it would be good to have someone with him at all times, at least on the battlefield.”

“And you have a suggestion as to who that should be?”

“Yes, Masters. The people that Obi-Wan has responded to the most during his… episodes--” Kark, being diplomatic was  _ hard _ . Anakin was so used to just saying whatever he thought, caring little for how his words came out, so long as his point was made, but he was really  _ trying _ here. This was too important to ruin with his usual recklessness. He cleared his throat and continued. “They’ve all been people he considers part of his flock.”

“Ah. That does make a certain amount of sense,” Ki-Adi murmured slowly, and then he frowned. “But do we even know who his ‘flock’ consists of? Does  _ he _ even know all of its members? I understand that he cannot predict when this will happen, what, or  _ who _ , will trigger it.”

“I’m not sure,” Anakin admitted. “But Commander Cody and I have made a list for that, too, based on the incident reports we compiled. I have a few guesses that aren’t confirmed, including Knight Muln, Knight Eerin, Master Vos, and Knight Tachi. They might make good candidates for this. I’ll volunteer for it whenever I can, but I… I know it just isn’t practical for the 212th and the 501st to be together as often as Obi-Wan might need, at first. We need both attack battalions out there, and we’re usually spread too thin as it is. Teaming up is  _ effective _ , but it takes resources away from other battles that we usually can’t spare.”

“These Jedi in particular--believe them to be his flock, why do you?” Yoda hummed, his ears perking up, his head tilting slightly to the side.

“They knew Obi-Wan well, growing up. Most of his flock are people he either was very close to early in life, although there’s a few he’s become close with now, like Senator Organa,” Anakin said. “I think it would be most effective if someone he considers his flock could be with him in the field.”

“Consider your suggestion, we will,” Yoda assured him with a firm nod. Anakin nodded back.

“Thank you, Knight Skywalker,” Mace said. Anakin went to bow to them, to take his leave, when Mace gave him a rare  _ smile _ . “And Anakin? You’ve handled this well. Your actions on Geonosis and your words before this Council today have been noted, and appreciated.”

Anakin’s eyes widened slightly. “I… thank you, Masters.”

The bow he gave them before he turned to leave was a bit lower, a touch more respectful, than usual. For the first time, Anakin walked away from a Council meeting with a bounce in his step and the feeling that, for once, they actually seemed to be doing the right thing.

* * *

Obi-Wan was summoned before the Council just before the evening meal. He probably  _ should _ have felt at least a bit nervous, but… He’d lost control. He  _ knew _ that, and he knew it wasn’t alright--he knew it couldn’t continue. The decision of how to proceed being taken out of his hands was a  _ relief _ more than anything else.

He bowed respectfully to his colleagues. “Masters. You’ve come to a decision, I take it?”

“We have,” Mace said. He didn’t sound angry, or weary, simply… certain. The feeling of  _ relief _ increased. “After speaking to Master Mundi, Master Unduli, Knight Skywalker, and Master Liik, and reviewing the… exceptionally  _ thorough _ report put together by Knight Skywalker and Commander Cody--” Obi-Wan hid a frown.  _ What _ report? “--we have determined that you did not behave in any way that requires censure. However, we do acknowledge that these incidents  _ must  _ be controlled.” Obi-Wan nodded in agreement.

“You will have a mandatory appointment with a Mind Healer before returning to the  _ Negotiator _ , though we are forgoing a meeting with the Council of Reconciliation. We are already convinced that this was not an act of Darkness,” Mace continued. Again, Obi-Wan simply nodded. “Knight Skywalker also approached us with the idea of having a member of your… flock present with you in battle, to assist you should any further incidents arise. This Council agrees with that suggestion. The Jedi assigned to you will change, depending on where they are needed; for now, Master Vos is available, and he will go with you to the  _ Negotiator _ .”

“Thank you, Masters. That is… reassuring.” Mace gave him a brief smile.

“Master Liik had several further suggestions,” Ki-Adi picked up the conversation. “He seems to believe that regular hunting would assist you, both in growing more accustomed to these incidents, and therefore being better equipped to handle them, and with sating your… instinctual urges. We agree with that assessment, as well, given what he’s explained to us. As this is can also be easily accomplished in the field, we see no reason to remove you from duty, provided that your evaluator with the Mind Healers agrees.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “While I thank you for this, Masters, I can’t help but think the consequences are a bit… light. My actions were…” He trailed off, grimacing.

Mace snorted. “Obi-Wan, we  _ know _ you. We’ve all been trying to either capture or kill Count Dooku since the beginning of the war. While your… methods and motivations were questionable, they were not a  _ conscious _ choice. In light of that, our decisions on how to proceed hinge on making sure you  _ can _ consciously control yourself in the future. You aren’t one to be driven by revenge--your previous actions regarding Asajj Ventress are proof enough of that.” Seeing the conflict still evident on Obi-Wan’s face, he sighed. “Stop torturing yourself, Obi-Wan. This is a problem, yes, but we can  _ fix _ it, and prevent it from happening again. We all agree that this is an  _ appropriate _ and  _ proportionate _ course of action.”

Obi-Wan finally nodded again. “Thank you, Masters. I accept. Although… there is one other matter.”

“Oh?” Yoda hummed.

“I would ask that I be relieved of my duties to this Council,” he said quietly. “Temporarily, of course. Only until I am certain of my self-control.”

The Masters grumbled, and communed quickly in the Force. Finally, Yoda sighed and nodded.

“Accept this, we will, if  _ temporary _ , it will be,” he stressed the word, and Obi-Wan managed a small smile.

“Thank you, Masters.”

“We will need to appoint another in the interim,” Plo pointed out. “Do you have someone in mind, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Masters, if I am being removed, even of my own volition, due to… instability, it would be highly inappropriate for me to choose my own replacement."

Mace hummed thoughtfully, and then laughed quietly, ruefully. The other Councilors looked at him with interest. “I have a suggestion. I wouldn’t have thought I’d ever say this, but after this past week--Hels, the past few  _ months _ , perhaps…” He took a breath, well aware that he was probably about to give his fellow Councilors headaches and possible heart attacks. Hels,  _ he _ had a splitting headache from the Shatterpoints that were unfolding around them.

“I nominate Anakin Skywalker for the position of Interim Councilor.”

* * *

Deliberations--if the heated bickering of the assembled Councilors could be called that--ran through the evening mealtime and late into the night. Finally, Mace held up a hand, rubbing at his temple with the other.

“Obi-Wan, I know that you are going to abstain from this vote, but since he’s already  _ been _ nominated, would you please weigh in on this decision so that we can all make a decision and get some  _ rest _ ?” A few weary chuckles and hums of agreement answered his plea, and Obi-Wan sighed and sat up straighter in his seat, his feathers ruffling slightly in thought.

“Anakin and I are… surprisingly similar, in some ways,” he admitted slowly. “When I was Knighted, I wasn’t ready. This same Council recognized that fact, and mere  _ days _ later, it happened anyway. I wasn’t ready for Knighthood, and I wasn’t ready for a Padawan.”

“Obi-Wan--” Adi Gallia broke in, but Obi-Wan shook his head, smiling softly.

“I  _ wasn’t _ , and we all know that. It’s alright.

“But I rose to it. Anakin is very much cut from the same cloth in that respect,” Obi-Wan continued. “I did not think him ready for Knighthood, and much like I was, he was promoted in the sudden absence of his Master. And he has become a very talented Knight.

“And then we gave him an army, and told him to become a General.  _ None _ of us were ready for the war. Again, he accepted the challenge, and has become one of our most effective leaders.

“This Council gave him a Padawan he did not ask for, a Padawan he was not  _ ready _ for. He has done a marvelous job with her, thus far, and they are  _ both _ better for it.

“Anakin thrives on being thrown off the deep end, into unfamiliar waters. He thrives on  _ trust _ . He is _ not ready _ for his Mastery, or a seat on the Council. But if it is given to him, I have little doubt that he would exceed our expectations, just as he had with every other responsibility we have ever bestowed on him,” Obi-Wan concluded. The Council Chamber was silent for a long moment.

“But what of his… displeasure  _ with _ this Council?” Depa asked. “Would he even  _ accept _ a seat, if it were offered?”

Obi-Wan paused, and then nodded slowly. “I believe so. His main issue with the Council has never been that he  _ disagrees _ , but that he feels as though he can’t  _ express _ that disagreement to any real effect. Anakin does not do well with being helpless, and having to follow the Council’s instructions, even when he disagrees, without feeling as though his input was  _ considered _ \--that has always been the true root of the issue.

“I do not believe he would abuse the position if it were given to him. I do not believe that he would cause  _ unnecessary _ arguments. I think… I believe that such a sign of  _ trust _ from the Council would cause him to consider us all in a different light.”

Again, contemplative silence met Obi-Wan’s statements. Eeth Koth finally sighed roughly.

“Dammit, Obi-Wan,” he groaned. “Why do you have to be so  _ sensible _ ?”

Obi-Wan laughed brightly and shrugged. “Apparently, I’m  _ not _ sensible, or we wouldn’t be having this meeting, because this seat would still be mine.”

“Another matter, there is, to address,” Yoda finally said. He had been silent through much of the deliberations. “Concerned, we have all been, about Anakin Skywalker. So few connections to our Order, he has. Feel himself to be  _ apart _ from us, he often does. His  _ family _ , we are. Act like it, we  _ should _ .”

The silence that fell then was heavier, and Obi-Wan could sense that several of the Councilors wanted to protest at the word “family,” heavy with the weight of  _ attachment _ .

But Obi-Wan’s heart felt like it would burst with pleasure and gratitude at his Great-Grand-Master’s words.

“Shall we take the final vote?” Mace rumbled, and the Councilors nodded slowly. They all knew what the outcome would be.

* * *

Anakin was awake when his commlink chirped at him. He was in their quarters, waiting up for Obi-Wan. The meeting had run far, far too long, and all of Anakin’s fears about what the Council would do to his Master had resurfaced. Simple restrictions and instructions shouldn’t have taken  _ this _ long.

It was Master Windu. He looked tired, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. Anakin’s brow furrowed.

“Master Windu,” he said slowly. “What, ah, what can I do for you? Is Obi-Wan alright?”

“I’m fine, Anakin,” Obi-Wan called from out of view. Anakin relaxed somewhat. He hadn’t felt anything distressing from Obi-Wan, but since he’d helped his Master strengthen his shields, his emotions hadn’t been nearly as accessible as they had been before, and he had… worried.

“The Council would like to see you.”

“Of course,” Anakin said, still puzzled. “Whenever is, ah,  _ convenient _ for you--”

“Now is convenient,” Mace drawled, and Anakin snapped his mouth shut, blinking at him, and then he nodded.

“Of course,” he repeated, his brain distantly noting that he sounded like Obi-Wan, with the stupid karking  _ placid _ tones and quiet acquiesence. Mace caught it as well, and raised an eyebrow at him.

Anakin was glad that Ahsoka had chosen to spend the night in the Padawan dorms--he knew how much she would fret if she realized he’d been summoned before the full Council, in the middle of the night, right after they met to deliver their decision about Obi-Wan.

To be honest, he was fretting, too.

What if the Council had ended up disagreeing with his suggestions? What if they were going to ground Obi-Wan in the Temple after all? Or  _ worse _ , what if they were going to send him back out into the field without someone there to keep him steady?

Anakin came to stand in front of the heavy double doors to the Council Chamber, and he took a deep breath, reminding himself yet again:  _ focus on the here and now _ .

He pushed them open.

Obi-Wan was standing beside his usual seat, not sitting in it. Anakin threw him a concerned glance, but Obi-Wan merely smiled at him, nodding briefly. 

Anakin came to stand in the center of the circle and bowed to the Council, again a touch deeper, a touch more respectfully, than he would have just a week before. “Masters.”

“Knight Skywalker,” Mace began. “Master Kenobi has requested to be  _ temporarily _ removed from his seat on this Council.”

“I… what?” Anakin turned to look at Obi-Wan, who nodded, giving him an encouraging smile.

“I cannot focus on regaining myself control, and running the Third System Army,  _ and _ maintaining my status as a High Councilor,” he said with an easy shrug. “I intend to step down for now.”

“You wanted this?” Anakin clarified again, and Obi-Wan nodded.

“Yes. I requested it.”

“Alright,” Anakin finally said, and turned back to Mace. Not for the first time, he wondered why he’d been summoned. Maybe Obi-Wan was taking this harder than it looked like he was. That thought… wasn’t comforting.

“In light of this, we require an Interim Councilor to take Master Kenobi’s place,” Mace continued. Anakin frowned, tilting his head to the side. Mace’s lips twitched again. “What do you say, Anakin?”

“I… what?” Anakin blinked once, twice. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, not sure what was going to come out. “Are you… asking for my suggestion?”

“No,” Mace asked, his grin widening. “The Council is already in  _ full _ agreement on this.  _ You _ were nominated, and accepted by us. For the time being, that seat--” He gestured one hand toward where Obi-Wan still stood next to his normal seat. “--is yours. If you accept?”

Anakin was gaping at them, he was sure of it, his eyes wide.

“I… wow,” he finally said, and he ran his human hand through his hair again, and that--

That made him think of Padme, and how she nagged at him to  _ stop it _ . He swallowed hard.

“Thank you, Masters,” Anakin said finally. “May I… have some time to consider the matter?”

There was a slightly stunned silence, and then several of the Councilors began to laugh.

“Far be it from me to discourage this sudden tendency of yours to  _ think ahead _ and  _ consider your options carefully _ ,” Mace laughed. “Yes, Anakin. We will reconvene tomorrow, at fourteenth hour. Will that be enough time?”

“I’m sure it will, Masters,” Anakin said, his head still spinning too much to really process the backhanded compliment Mace had given him. “I--again,  _ thank you _ .”

“On that note,” Adi Gallia said, standing up, “may we  _ please _ adjourn for the night?”

“Fine, fine,” Mace sighed. “Get some sleep, everyone.”

* * *

Anakin barely waited until they were back at their shared quarters before he cornered Obi-Wan. “What the fuck was  _ that _ ?!”

Obi-Wan just laughed. “ _ That _ was the Council offering you a position. Even if it is only until I am… fully myself again, it is a great show of faith in you.”

“I--yeah,” Anakin said slowly. “It is.” He shook his head lightly. “Did you nominate me?”

Obi-Wan’s grin turned decidedly impish. “No,” he said. “I recused myself from the vote and declined to nominate anyone on the grounds that if I was being  _ removed _ , even if only temporarily, then it would be unwise and inappropriate for me to name my own successor.”

“So who…?”

“Mace.” Anakin’s jaw went slack, his eyes wide, and Obi-Wan threw his head back and laughed. “Yes, I know. Apparently he’s finally noticed how much you’ve grown up.”

“Huh,” Anakin managed. Obi-Wan smiled at him again, and then clapped him on the shoulder.

“They did ask for my opinion, and I gave it,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “I told them the unbiased truth as I see it: you have always risen to any challenge the Order has presented you, and this challenge would be no different.”

Anakin felt a burning, prickling sensation behind his eyes, and blinked away the tears before they could form. He smiled up at Obi-Wan, who squeezed his shoulder once, and then let his hand drop.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, “I’m off to bed. It’s been a terribly long day.”

“Right,” Anakin sighed. “I’m…” He frowned, and then sighed. “I think I’m actually going to go… meditate.”

Obi-Wan’s bright laughter followed him as Anakin left their rooms. He  _ had _ intended to meditate, but… he knew the feeling, that almost-buzzing of his limbs, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to settle, not now.

Anakin wanted to accept. He  _ wanted _ to honor the faith that the Council placed in him, that  _ Obi-Wan _ placed in him, with their invitation, but…

Padme. His mother. The  _ Tuskens _ .

Still, some part of him thought that maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe all that mattered was that he would finally have a chance to change everything that he thought was  _ wrong _ with the Council, with the  _ Order _ , from the  _ inside _ , where he might actually be  _ heard _ \--

And a smaller, darker part of him that he almost didn’t acknowledge, that he didn’t  _ want _ to acknowledge, whispered that he  _ deserved it _ . They  _ owed  _ him this.

Anakin shivered, and realized that this was not something he could work through on his own. His first impulse was to turn back around, march into Obi-Wan’s room, and tell him  _ everything _ . But… Obi-Wan had just  _ stepped down _ from the Council because he felt he was unstable, and… Anakin couldn’t add any more stress. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he made Obi-Wan worse.

Anakin frowned to himself, crossing his arms, standing in the hallway, unmoving. He had so few  _ friends _ in the Order, and there was  _ absolutely _ no way he would  _ ever _ tell Ahsoka about any of this. Or Master Yoda. He could talk to Padme--Force, he could always tell his angel  _ anything _ , but… she wasn’t a Jedi. There were just some things that she couldn’t really  _ understand _ .

A sudden bolt of inspiration hit him, and he sighed. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t think of anyone else better suited for  _ this _ conversation. Determination settling around him like armor, Anakin drew himself up, and strode off towards the Knights Barracks.

* * *

Quinlan Vos had been--quite comfortably-- _ asleep _ when his door chimed. Of course he was  _ asleep _ , it was the  _ middle of the karking night _ . He groaned and decided to ignore the visitor, but a few minutes later, it chimed again.

“Vos?” a low voice outside called. “C’mon, I know you’re in there. This is  _ important _ , dammit--”

Quinlan groaned and rolled himself out of bed, not bothering to put on a shirt, wearing only his low, soft sleep pants. He palmed the control and glared at Anakin Skywalker.

“What?” Quinlan snapped.

“I just… really need to talk to you about something.” Quinlan tensed.

“Is it about Obi-Wan?”

“No,” Anakin said immediately, and then he frowned. “Well, sort of.”

Quinlan sighed and stepped back, allowing Anakin to enter his rooms. Gesturing at the cushions scattered around the low caff table, he padded to the kitchen. Kriffing  _ Hels _ , it was still only third hour. With a sigh, he resigned himself to remaining awake for the time being and started on a pot of caff.

“Want some?” he asked Anakin wearily. The younger man nodded, but said nothing. Once Quinlan had gotten a gulp or two in him, feeling the sudden  _ jolt _ of caffeine slam into his system, he brought both mugs over and sat one in front of Anakin before settling himself down across from the other man. “Now, what’s so important that you had to wake me up from a truly  _ lovely _ dream in the middle of the karking  _ night _ ?”

“Obi-Wan stepped down from the Council,” Anakin blurted out. Quinlan blinked, and then sighed.

“I was afraid he would do that,” Quinlan said.

“It’s… just temporary,” Anakin said slowly. “Just until he’s… not dealing with so much.” He took a deep breath, but it didn’t help, and he busied himself with taking a large swallow of the still-steaming caff.

“And…?”

“Apparently Master  _ Windu _ nominated me to take Obi-Wan’s place, and the rest of the Council actually fucking  _ agreed to it _ .”

For a moment, Quinlan was totally silent, and then he threw his head back and laughed, teeth bared, belly shaking. Anakin scowled at him. It wasn’t  _ funny _ .

Okay, it was maybe a  _ little _ funny, but not when… not when he knew the  _ whole story _ . Not when he couldn’t stop remembering what he’d done.

“I never thought I would see the day,” Quinlan finally said. “And you’re freaking out but don’t want to tell Obi-Wan?”

“I’m not ‘freaking out,’ I just… I need to talk through some shit,” Anakin said. Quinlan rolled his eyes.

“Sounds like you’re freaking out.”

“I’m  _ not _ ,” Anakin insisted, and Quinlan’s good humor suddenly faded.

“You’re afraid.”

“I--” Anakin wanted to say no. He wanted to protest, and say that  _ no _ , he just wasn’t sure the Council was making a good decision, and he had logical  _ reasons _ for thinking that, and it wasn’t  _ fear _ .

But it would be a lie, and they both knew it.

“Yeah. I’m… not the Jedi they think I am. I’m not the Jedi I should be.”

“Oh?” Quinlan murmured, those piercing eyes staring him down. Anakin couldn’t look straight at him, and stared instead at the yellow stripe running across his face.

“I’m… I’m married to Padme. Senator Amidala.”

“Oh,  _ fuck _ , kid,” Quinlan groaned suddenly. “You really just had to  _ say it _ , didn’t you? Now my plausible deniability is  _ shot _ .”

“I--what?” Anakin said dully, and Quinlan gave him a  _ look _ that suggested he was very  _ slow _ .

“Kid,” Quinlan sighed, “ _ everyone _ knows. We all pretend that we don’t, and as long as no one talks about it, we could all just keep on pretending not to see it.”

“ _ What _ ?” Anakin yelped.

“Calm down,” Quinlan growled. “It’s  _ fine _ . I’m pretty sure at least half the Council knows, too. If they still voted for you, you’re fine. Just… try to be more discrete.”

“I thought I  _ was _ being discrete.”

“Oh, Force, Obi-Wan, I am so sorry,” Quinlan sighed heavily, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with  _ this  _ all those years, if he thinks that’s  _ discrete-- _ ”

“ _ Vos _ ,” Anakin growled, and Quinlan laughed again, long and hard. When his guffaws had subsided down to quiet, intermittent gasps and chuckles, Anakin shifted uncomfortably before forcing himself to say what he’d come here to say. “You Fell, didn’t you?”

Quinlan’s expression immediately hardened. “Why would you say that?”

“There are… there’s some shit that Obi-Wan’s said, before. He never  _ told _ me, but… he implied that you were… grey. Darkened, but not… Dark. It makes sense, you know? If you’d Fallen, but brought yourself back.”

Quinlan simply stared at him for a long moment. “What does this have to do with  _ you _ ?” Anakin didn’t answer, just let his gaze fall back down to his mug. “What did you  _ do _ ?”

“I don’t… I don’t  _ know _ ,” Anakin whispered. “It was… I was…  _ furious _ . I only remember… it’s like still holos. Just flashes, and fragments, but I know it was  _ me _ , and that…  _ terrifies _ me.”

Quinlan stared at him for a long moment, and then reached out his hand, palm up, over the table.

“Give me your ‘saber.”

“What?” Anakin finally looked up.

“Give me your lightsaber,” Quinlan repeated. “I’ll be able to  _ see _ what you did.”

Anakin clenched his fists. Handing over his  _ lightsaber _ was... His lightsaber was his life. Obi-Wan had drilled that into him for  _ years _ , since he’d built his first one, and they were taught  _ never _ to give it up.

Well, he thought distantly, it would be better this way than having to actually  _ say it _ . He still remembered the horrified look on Padme’s face when he’d stumbled back to the moisture farm, the pity warring with  _ disgust _ \--

Before he could lose his courage, before he could get up and walk out of the room and try to pretend this conversation had never happened, Anakin unclipped his ‘saber from his belt and wordlessly dropped it into Quinlan’s outstretched hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a little more than the 48 hours promised, but here's the resolution to that cliffhanger for you. This somehow developed a plot, and this is setting up many of the plot points I'm going to start exploring!
> 
> I really didn't expect the response this story has gotten. Thank you so much to everyone who has left comments, kudos, and subscribed! I'm doing my best to continue the story in a timely fashion.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Quinlan slowly, carefully, set Anakin’s lightsaber down on the table between them. Still silent, not yet meeting Anakin’s eyes, he picked up his now-cooling mug and drained the rest of the caff.

Anakin fidgeted uncomfortably. He wanted… well, ideally, he wanted Quinlan to tell him what to _do_ , how to get past this, how to… How to take it back.

But he knew that wasn’t possible.

Still, the silence was heavy, the Force thick like fog around them, and Anakin desperately wanted Quinlan to just _say something_.

Quinlan stood and headed back to the kitchen. He grabbed the full pot of caff, warming it with the Force, caring little about the frivolity of it at that moment. “Refill?” he asked Anakin, who nodded dumbly. Quinlan topped them both off again and sat back down.

“Vos, I…”

“Why is the Order fighting this war?” Quinlan asked, and Anakin frowned. That wasn’t… what he’d been expecting.

“What?”

“Why is the Order fighting this war?” Quinlan repeated, his voice calm and steady.

“To keep the Republic from fracturing,” Anakin said slowly, his brow furrowed, his frown still fixed on his face. Quinlan snorted.

“No. The Jedi could just as easily serve a split galaxy, and with less destruction, fewer lives lost,” Quinlan replied flatly. “Try again.”

“To… because…” Quinlan raised an eyebrow at him, and Anakin scowled. He looked down at his lightsaber, still sitting on the table, and Anakin stared at it, the symbol of what he’d done, the symbol of the war they were fighting, the… the symbol of the Order, and his membership in it.

He thought of the Order as he’d known it growing up. The Temple had been so… peaceful. Anakin hadn’t ever really felt _peace_ before he’d entered the Temple. Tatooine wasn’t… it was a lot of things, but _serene_ wasn’t one of them. Tatooine was loud, and chaotic, and filled with a cacophony of _desperation-despair-anger-fear-pain_ in the Force. When Anakin had first set foot in the Temple, that bastion of _calm_ that it had been, he’d felt… Peaceful.

But that was just it. The Temple _had been_ peaceful. It had been serene. Now, with the war, with so many Jedi dying out there in the galaxy, far from their home… For all that his fellow Jedi maintained their _airs_ of serenity, an undercurrent of that same _desperation_ had started to creep into the Temple.

Still, though, it was balanced by _hope_.

Anakin’s frown deepened.

Why did Obi-Wan fight? Because his commitment to the Order was absolute? Anakin would have thought that to be the reason, until… Until Obi-Wan had ripped through droids with his bare hands, until he'd nearly done the same to Dooku. No, Obi-Wan fought for others. To protect them. To protect his _flock_.

He thought of Padme--she fought in her own ways. Never--alright, _rarely_ \--on the battlefield, but her battles were just as arduous. She fought against the poor treatment of the clones, and the production of more of them, believing that it signalled that the clones were that much more expendable. Padme fought for freedom, for life.

“To beat back the Darkness, to… protect,” Anakin finally murmured, looking up to meet Quinlan’s gaze, the dark eyes intense. “Because we don’t _want_ to fight, but we can’t afford _not to_. Because if the Sith win, there’s nothing worth fighting for anymore.”

The smile Quinlan gave him was toothy, grim and terrible. “You’ll have to fight that much harder than the rest of them, against the Darkness. It is in you now, a part of you. It will never leave you. Remember why you fight, Anakin. If you forget, if you stop fighting against that part of yourself, even for a moment, it will creep back in, and you’ll lose everything you have that’s worth fighting for.

“I’ll make you the same promise Obi-Wan made me. If that ever happens, and you can’t control yourself anymore, I’ll kill you myself.”

Anakin sat in stunned silence. Finally, he nodded grimly. “I… thank you. I don’t… I couldn’t make Obi-Wan do it.”

“I doubt he ever could,” Quinlan said flatly.

“So I should probably tell the Council, huh?” Anakin asked quietly, looking back down at the table.

“Hels no,” Quinlan growled. “The _Council_ thinks that Fallen Jedi can’t ever come back to the Light. I’m proof that they’re wrong. But if they _knew_ what I’d done, they would have run a ‘saber right through me. Maybe two, just to be sure. No, Obi-Wan told me to keep it a secret, and I listened, and we’ve been… managing.”

Anakin nodded slowly, relief blossoming in his chest. He wasn’t going to have to tell the Council. He wouldn’t have to watch as all of their suspicions were confirmed, he wouldn’t be cast out of the Order. Or… hunted down.

“But I _should_ probably tell them no.”

Quinlan tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “Why?”

“You must be joking. You _know_ why.”

“Not really,” Quinlan said, shrugging, sounding just as unconcerned as he had when this conversation had started. “This happened _two years ago_ , and you’re only just _now_ telling someone. If this was motivation for you to get your shit together, then it might be worth accepting. Might keep you honest.”

Anakin shifted again. “You aren’t the first person I’ve told. The first _Jedi_ though.”

Quinlan frowned. “Who?”

“Padme was with me, on Tatooine,” Anakin admitted quietly. “I told her as soon as it happened. And…”

“Who else knows, kid?”

“I told Chancellor Palpatine about a year ago. After I was Knighted.”

Quinlan’s eyes narrowed to slits. Anakin thought he heard him growl.

“You told the karking _Chancellor_?” The other shoe dropped. “And the Chancellor didn’t tell the Council.” Anakin shook his head.

“No. He’s… a good man. I’ve confided in him a lot the last few years--with… things I couldn’t talk about with other Jedi,” Anakin said vaguely, and Quinlan groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He said that I… that he understood why I must’ve done it, and the fact that I felt so bad about it was ‘penance enough.’ I didn’t really… I thought he was wrong, at least about that--I felt like… _more_ should happen. I should have to… make up for it. But… it made it easier to live with.”

“It shouldn’t _be_ easy to live with,” Quinlan snapped, and then squeezed his eyes shut, taking a calm, slow breath. In, one, two, three, and out, one, two, three. He opened his eyes again, shaking his head. “We’ll come back to that later. Right now, you’ve got a choice to make. Do you think you can handle this? The Council seat?”

Anakin frowned. “I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you’ve got--” Quinlan glanced at the chrono. It was six in the morning. “--a couple hours to figure it out.”

Anakin nodded. It felt… he was relieved, honestly, that someone else knew, but he’d wanted Quinlan to tell him what to _do_. He’d wanted to force the decision on someone else, and…

He groaned. “I guess I’m… gonna have to go meditate now.” Anakin stood slowly, his legs a bit stiff from sitting still for so long. “Thanks, I guess.”

Quinlan nodded curtly, and Anakin turned to leave. “Oh, and kid?” Anakin paused, looking back over his shoulder. “Get a handle on this. Obi-Wan would never forgive me if I have to kill you.”

Anakin nodded, expression blank, and left the room.

Quinlan sat back with a heavy sigh, staring down at his now-empty mug of caff. The Chancellor, huh?

* * *

Obi-Wan was _trying_ to meditate when his door chimed. He’d been trying to center himself, preparing for what was more than likely going to be a very _uncomfortable_ conversation with one of the Mind Healers. He still didn’t know who he would be meeting with, and that… was disconcerting.

Sighing, he rose and went to answer. He blinked at his visitor, and then grinned widely.

“Cody, what a pleasant surprise,” he said cheerfully. He stood aside to let his Commander in. Cody was wearing his armor, but his bucket was held under his left arm. “I hope you’re enjoying your leave?”

“It’s been a very nice opportunity to catch up on paperwork, sir,” Cody said dryly, a bit of mischief in his eyes. Obi-Wan laughed, gesturing for him to sit down on the couch.

“Please tell me you’ve done at least _something_ other than paperwork. Tea? Or something stronger?”

“It’s 11, sir,” Cody said, frowning, and Obi-Wan just laughed.

“I know,” he said, “but we’re _off-duty_.”

“We’re _never_ off-duty. Not really.”

“Well, I am, now,” Obi-Wan said, smiling slightly. “Mostly, anyway.” He grabbed Cody a glass of water, knowing his Commander wouldn’t accept anything else, and a mug of tea for himself. Despite his teasing, he didn’t think it would send a very good signal to the Healers if he showed up for his evaluation tipsy.

“I was informed that you’ve stepped down from the Council,” Cody said. His tone was even, his voice steady, but there was that undertone of _concern_ that Obi-Wan had come to recognize.

“For now,” Obi-Wan replied, unconcerned. “I need… time. But it will be waiting for me, when I’m up to the task once more.”

Cody nodded slowly. “Is this a good thing?”

“I think so,” Obi-Wan said, tilting his head to the side. “I believe it will be. The Force feels… different. Lighter. It’s as if… now we have the possibility of something _better_ than what was coming before.”

That made just as much sense as _anything_ his Jedi tended to say about the Force, so Cody simply nodded, although a small smile found its way onto his face at the optimism.

“I did come for a specific purpose,” Cody said after a moment.

“Oh?”

“I think it’s the first time I’ve ever been summoned before the Council without you,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan blinked.

“Pardon?”

“You didn’t know?” Cody asked.

“Well, I’m no longer _on_ the Council,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “No. I didn’t.” He took another sip of his tea before humming thoughtfully. “Although I _did_ hear something about a report submitted by yourself and Anakin…?”

It was only thanks to Cody’s rigorous training that he didn’t squirm.

“Ah, yes, sir,” Cody said slowly. “We… compiled a list for the Council of every… _incident_. To demonstrate the fact that you had never… crossed any lines.”

“Oh, Cody,” Obi-Wan sighed. “Thank you. That was very… kind of you.”

“You don’t agree.”

“Not entirely,” Obi-Wan admitted. “For a Jedi, a loss of control _is_ crossing a line, in itself.”

Cody nodded slowly. That, at least, he could understand. As a Commander, as a soldier, he himself couldn’t afford to lose control.

“You’ve always still… been yourself, on some level,” Cody assured him, choosing his words carefully. “You still respond to people--well, as much as you ever do.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Yes, yes, I’m stubborn, I know. You’ve mentioned it before.”

Cody resisted the urge to roll his eyes and simply nodded. “You seem… stressed.”

“I have an evaluation later today. The Mind Healers will decide if I am fit to return to the field, or if I should… be kept here, for the time being.”

“I see.” Cody frowned. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Obi-Wan shook his head, a gentle smile on his face. “What about… the preening helps you relax, doesn’t it?”

“Well… yes.”

“Alright then.” Cody nodded decisively, already reaching for the kit that was kept beside the couch. “There’s not enough room in here.”

“Cody, really, I appreciate the offer, but--”

“Do you have somewhere else you like to preen?” Cody asked bluntly, cutting off his protests. Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, taking in the familiar, exasperated determination on his Commander’s face, and he sighed.

“The Room of a Thousand Fountains works well.”

“Lead on.”

* * *

When Master Vokara Che found her patient in the glade Master Yoda had insisted he would be in, in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, she held back a ways, watching with a small, contented smile. Obi-Wan was sitting cross-legged, his wings spread out to the sides, his shoulders slumped forward, his head hung low, eyes closed. He looked more relaxed than she’d seen him in _years_. Behind him, Commander Cody was working diligently on his right wing while Captain Rex took the left, the three of them working in silence.

Well, mostly in silence. Obi-Wan seemed to be humming under his breath, although she couldn’t tell if they were just mindless noises of contentment or a song.

She stepped forward, and the two clones paused to look up at her. She waved a hand at them as they moved to stop and get up.

“Hello, gentlemen,” she greeted the trio with a nod and a smile. Obi-Wan’s head tilted up slightly, and he hummed a bit louder, a bit firmer, in response. “I’m a bit early for our appointment, and I have no doubt you would’ve been perfectly on time to meet me in the Halls, but I wondered if you wouldn’t rather do this here. It might be more comfortable for you.”

Obi-Wan seemed to come back to himself a bit more at that, and his eyes finally opened, though his expression was still unguarded and relaxed. His eyes narrowed, and then he fluttered his wings slightly, shaking the two men off, before looking over his shoulder at Cody.

“Did you plan this?”

“...no, sir,” he said slowly. “It… was a suggestion from General Yoda.”

Obi-Wan huffed, but a small smile made its way onto his face. “I see. Well, thank you for ensuring I was… calmer for this.” Cody nodded.

“Do you two mind finishing that up later?” Vokara asked, still smiling softly, warmly, at all of them. “I _do_ need Obi-Wan to be able to speak for this.”

Cody stifled a laugh, and nodded again. He ran one hand down the right wing again, and then stood. “We’ll be back in an hour.”

Rex grabbed Obi-Wan’s left shoulder, using the excuse of leveraging himself up to squeeze it gently. “You’ll be fine.”

Obi-Wan nodded despite the fluttering nerves that were beginning to settle back in to the pit of his stomach. He watched Cody and Rex walk past Vokara, out of the glade and into the trees, and then it was just him and the Healer.

“Let’s get this over with,” Obi-Wan sighed.

Vokara sat a few feet in front of him, folding her own legs underneath her. The glade was very pretty, and relaxing, and the thick foliage and tall trees around them made for more privacy than she’d expected. She knew that both clones wouldn’t be far, standing watch over the path that led to the glade, shooing anyone away who might come near them while they spoke.

“The Council wants me to determine if you’re fit for field duty,” Vokara began gently, and Obi-Wan’s face immediately went from serene to troubled, his lips pressing into a thin line, his eyes narrowed, staring intently at the ground, refusing to meet hers. “Why don’t you start by telling me why you think you _aren’t_ fit?”

He seemed startled by that, and his head whipped up as he stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

Vokara snorted. “I know you, Obi-Wan. Why don’t you trust yourself?”

“I lost control.”

Vokara hummed. “Did you?”

Obi-Wan’s stare went wide-eyed. “Don’t you agree? I chased after Count Dooku _on my own_ , something I have repeatedly had to remind Anakin and Ahsoka _not_ to do, and then proceeded to…”

“Try to rip his heart out,” Vokara finished, tone neutral. “Yes, I was briefed in full.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. “Then you understand why I don’t trust myself.”

“Not really,” Vokara admitted. “The fact remains that you _didn’t_ do so.”

“Because Anakin was there. If he hadn’t been…” Obi-Wan shuddered, and his feathers began to puff up.

“Then we need to get you to a point where you are capable and comfortable controlling these episodes independently,” Vokara said. “Which is exactly what the Council decided already, and you know this. You know it won’t happen immediately, either. It will take practice.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you still beating yourself up about this?” Vokara sighed. “Obi-Wan, it was _Dooku_ . A Sith. The enemy General. Do you _really_ think that if any of us had the opportunity to kill him, _we_ would have stopped?”

“It wasn’t truly my choice,” Obi-Wan snapped. “I… taking a life should be a _deliberate_ thing. It’s why I hate blasters--one stray shot and you could kill someone innocent, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The deliberateness of a lightsaber is far… better. So to feel that I am… to _be_ more like a blaster than a ‘saber is…” Obi-Wan shook his head, his mouth pressed into a grim line. Vokara sighed.

“I know, Obi-Wan,” she murmured gently. “You never _want_ to hurt anyone.”

“I wanted to hurt _him_.”

“Yes,” Vokara said, “and no. You wanted to _defeat_ him. You didn’t want to hurt him just for the sake of making him _suffer_ . Even when you are acting on instinct, to inflict suffering is _never_ your purpose--I read the report that Anakin and Cody put together, and it’s proof enough for me. On Geonosis… you sought to protect and overcome, and there is _nothing_ wrong with that. You do not need to stifle your instincts, merely _guide_ and _contain_ them.”

Obi-Wan said nothing, and while she could tell he did not agree, he was trying to internalize her words. She decided to leave it be and moved on.

“The Council plans to send you back out into the field with one of your flock with you, for the time being,” Vokara said, and Obi-Wan nodded. “That sounds like a good plan to you? You’re comfortable with it?”

“Yes.”

“And how about going back into the field? Are you comfortable with that?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said with even more certainty. Vokara smiled gently at him, nodding.

“You always were one for action,” she said fondly. “I see where your Padawan got it.”

Obi-Wan snorted doubtfully. “Please, Vokara. He came to me that way.”

“I’m sure,” she drawled, and Obi-Wan’s smile grew a bit larger, a bit more genuine. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders, his wings smoothing back down. He looked away to stare up at the leaves above them, the towering trees, the second-level bridge just barely visible between them.

“I don’t like not being able to trust myself,” he confessed softly.

“You would never harm someone unless it was necessary,” Vokara said firmly. “Do you agree with that?”

“Normally, I do. However…”

“No,” Vokara said sternly. “You wouldn’t. _Ever_ . All of your instincts have only benefitted you and those around you, up until now. Even going after Dooku. You _didn’t_ go too far, and you kept him off of the battlefield. Who knows if Geonosis would have been a success if he’d been leading the droids. _You_ made sure he couldn’t.

“There’s nothing Dark or evil about you, Obi-Wan. Not even this. But it is _part_ of you, and you need to accept yourself. ‘Stop torturing yourself,’ as Mace put it.”

Obi-Wan sighed and nodded, bringing his gaze back down to meet hers.

“I know. But it’s a long road.”

“You’ll get there. You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met. You’ll find a way.”

* * *

When Anakin went before the Council, Obi-Wan was standing off to the side of his chair, just as he had been the night before. He looked… tired, and he was shielding their bond from Anakin, but he seemed alright. Anakin gave him a small grin and received a much larger one in return. He took a steadying breath, letting his Master’s faith bolster him.

He could do this.

“Knight Skywalker,” Mace greeted him, and Anakin bowed low.

“Masters.”

“This Council has offered you a seat as Interim Councilor. Have you come to a decision?”

“I have,” Anakin said, and with one more glance to Obi-Wan, who had opened the bond a little to pulse simple reassurance and faith to him, he added, “Thank you for your consideration. I am… happy to accept.”

Obi-Wan beamed, the bond falling further open as he radiated fierce pride, and Anakin found an answering smile creeping across his face. Yoda looked smugly pleased, and Mace was… well, he looked caught between a smile and a grimace. Although he’d nominated Anakin, he wondered if the Master had really thought through what it would be _like_ to sit on the Council with Anakin. Still, Mace nodded at him and gestured to Obi-Wan’s seat.

“I’ll hand this seat over to you,” Obi-Wan said as Anakin approached. “I’m sure you’ll keep it in good shape for me.” He squeezed Anakin’s shoulder gently and then passed him to stand in the center of the circle, where Anakin had just been.

There was, Anakin found out at that moment, very little ceremony in being declared a Councilor.

“Our first order of business is Master Kenobi’s return to his duties,” Mace said. “We’ve received the results of Master Che’s evaluation, and I am… concerned.”

“As am I,” Plo’s hologram rumbled. He had had to leave Coruscant, the 327th forced to pick up some of the slack with _both_ the 501st and the 212th out of the fight.

“Masters, I know that I--”

Mace held up a hand to stay his protests. “I’m not concerned about what you might do. I’m not concerned about your motivations. I’m not concerned that you might Fall.”

“We have faith in you, Obi-Wan,” Adi Gallia murmured, and the Councilors all nodded and rumbled back in agreement.

“Then what…?”

“I’m concerned that _you_ are concerned,” Mace said flatly. “We have more confidence in you than you do yourself, and that worries me. You’ve always had a tendency to…” Mace looked to Depa for help; when words failed him, it had been a habit since Depa’s apprenticeship for her to come to his aid.

“We’ve all seen how you can be your own worst critic,” Depa said smoothly, and Mace nodded. That was better; he’d wanted to describe it as self-flagellation, but Obi-Wan would have protested at that. As it was, Obi-Wan stiffened slightly. “All too often you discount your successes to dwell on your failures. You are far too hard on yourself, and it has gone on for _years_. We are concerned for how little you seem to think of yourself.”

“I--”

“They’re right, Master.” All heads swiveled to Anakin, and it was strange for him to see them waiting attentively for him to speak, not glaring at him for interrupting. “You’ve always been really bad at taking care of yourself, and I know it’s because you think everything else matters more than you do. You’re absolutely _dead last_ on your own list of priorities. Always have been.” After a moment’s pause, Anakin sighed. “I don’t know _why_ you think you’re not good enough--” He frowned as he saw Obi-Wan try to stifle a wince. “--but you _are_.”

“Well put,” Shaak Ti said, her holoimage giving him a nod. Anakin flushed slightly, but nodded back.

“Masters,” Obi-Wan cut in, and Anakin almost winced that time. His tone was perfectly polite, without a hint of any frustration or anger, his hands held loosely behind his back, and his shields were up high. It was his “Negotiator” self. Anakin _hated_ when he did that. It felt too much to him like Obi-Wan was lying. “Do you believe that this will negatively affect my ability to work in the field?”

A short conference in the Force, and Anakin realized that they were purposefully opening themselves up so that Anakin could participate. Obi-Wan’s shields were still high, and he seemed to be politely not listening to the silent conversation.

The general consensus was no, and Anakin scowled.

He pushed forward an image, an impression: Obi-Wan jumping out of Padme’s window--well before he had _wings_ and would’ve been able to _fly_ if he dropped--to catch the hoverdroid that had tried to kill her instead of _following Anakin to the speeders like a normal person_ (and yeah, he would’ve had the Force, but Coruscant was… busy, and it had so many levels, and most Jedi tried to keep their Force-assisted falls to a maximum of like _a hundred feet_ ). And then another: Obi-Wan jumping out from cover to use the Force to shield his men from a grenade, instead of _staying in cover like someone with any sense of self-preservation_ . And another: Obi-Wan getting karking _blown up_ in a droid tank and _fucking captured by a Sith_. And another, and another, and another, quick impressions without much detail as he was certain they knew of most of the incidents from his own reports.

Obi-Wan might have tried to hide how little common sense he had from the Council, but Anakin never had.

The mental equivalents of sighs and winces echoed back to him, along with a sort of discomfort that Anakin knew well. He’d felt it from Obi-Wan: the sort of held-back memory that they couldn’t quite stop thinking about, trying to keep it from him, and _in_ trying so hard that they slipped and Anakin could sense there was something there.

He frowned, but didn’t press it. Not then.

“Yes and no,” Mace finally said. “While you are very effective in the field, and have continued to be so with your recent… changes, you take more unnecessary risks with yourself than you should.”

Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side, and Anakin resisted the urge to sigh. The move was made to look thoughtful, but Anakin knew that--even before Obi-Wan had gotten his wings back--that it really signalled something _predatory_.

He was gearing up for a fight.

“You’ve been getting better about it,” Anakin said slowly, “but you’re still absolutely _shit_ at accepting help.” It was the same thing he’d said a few days before, and while the language he used wasn’t exactly _encouraged_ in the Council Chamber, the effect it had on Obi-Wan was obvious.

Obi-Wan’s shoulders slumped slightly, his ramrod posture relaxing, his eyes going back down to the mosaic floor.

“Impolite, that was,” Yoda murmured, “but well said. Not _punishment_ is this, Obi-Wan. _Help_ , it is.”

Obi-Wan made no reply, but at least he wasn’t still fired up, ready to argue with them. Anakin relaxed.

“You’ll be cleared to go back to the _Negotiator_ ,” Mace said firmly, “but there will be changes. As we previously discussed, Master Vos will be going with you, and he _will_ be with you during engagements.” Obi-Wan nodded; this, at least, he agreed with. “We’re also giving Commander Cody explicit consent to override your orders if he feels that you are placing yourself in unnecessary danger.” Obi-Wan frowned, but nodded, more slowly this time. He trusted Cody, he really did, but his Commander was… over-protective, though the irony of him thinking that of someone else was not lost on him.

“That is reasonable.”

Mace paused a moment, and Obi-Wan’s stomach sank. He knew that look in Mace’s eyes. He was about to do something that he thought was for Obi-Wan’s good, but he knew Obi-Wan would just… well, not hate, Jedi didn’t _hate_ , but… suffice to say he hoped Obi-Wan would still be willing to speak to him outside the Council Chambers. Mace had gotten the silent treatment from Obi-Wan more than a few times.

The man was nothing if not _stubborn_.

“We will also be mandating sessions with a Mind Healer, either Master Che or another of your choosing, at least once per month,” Mace finally said. “A check-in, if you will.”

Obi-Wan stifled the impulse to say that that just wasn’t _possible_ , not when the _Negotiator_ was sent to the Outer Rim and back. They had participated in entire _battles_ that had lasted longer than a month.

He tilted his head. “I have… several clarifying questions.”

Mace sighed. “You mean you want to know the rules so you can figure out how to bend them.” There were several chuckles from the Councilors, and Anakin himself shook his head. It was what _he_ would have done, too.

Mace waved a hand. “Thank you, Master Windu. Will I be required to attend the sessions in-person, or will a holo suffice?”

“ _In-person_ will be far better, but we will make certain allowances based on the _Negotiator_ ’s position.”

“Very good. And what access will you all have to the sessions?”

“Two yes or no questions, answered by the Healer. Did you attend as scheduled? And are you still in a condition to function in the field?” Plo said firmly, and Obi-Wan gritted his teeth, but nodded.

“Fair enough. Thank you, Masters.” Obi-Wan bowed, and the Councilors nodded in return. “If there is nothing else…?”

“No. Go on, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan turned heel and left, his wings fluttering against his back. Anakin barely contained his laughter until the doors had shut behind him.

“I think that’s the first meeting I’ve ever been part of that _Obi-Wan_ has stormed out of and _I’ve_ stayed calm,” Anakin said through his too-wide grin. A few reluctant smiles went his way, and then Yoda was cackling, which seemed to set the others off.

For the first time since the War had begun, genuine _laughter_ rang through the Council Chamber.

* * *

After the session had finished, Mace fixed Anakin with a _look_ that told him not to go anywhere. He remained in his seat, the Councilors leaving one by one.

Yoda turned back before leaving, staring at Anakin with a piercing look. Anakin was used to it from the Grandmaster, but that didn’t mean that he _liked_ it. Still, he tried not to squirm.

Finally, the tiny Master smiled. “A shift, I sense in you,” he murmured, tapping his stick on the floor. “Good, it is. Yes.” Yoda nodded once and hobbled off.

When they were finally alone in the Chamber, Mace sighed. “That went well, for your first meeting.” Suddenly, Mace smirked. “You should have seen Obi-Wan’s first. At the very end of the session, we asked if there was any more pressing business, and Obi-Wan had a _list_ . Over _two hundred_ requests for review on policy changes.”

Anakin’s eyes went wide. “He didn’t.”

“Oh, he did. We recognized every single one; they’d all been submitted by Qui-Gon Jinn.” Mace laughed. “Apparently it was a running joke between them. Qui-Gon would break the rules, Obi-Wan would chastise him, and Qui-Gon would say that he might as well be a Councilor. Eventually, somehow that turned into a promise from Obi-Wan to revisit every issue Qui-Gon thought was important enough to bring before the Council before his tenure. So, naturally, from that point on, Qui-Gon started submitting the most _ridiculous_ requests.”

“Like what?” Anakin asked, a funny smile on his face. It was… difficult to know what Qui-Gon was to him. He was the hero who’d freed him from slavery and helped save his angel and her people; he was the grandfather Anakin would never really know; he was the father who’d raised Anakin’s own Master, the man Obi-Wan never really talked much about because his death had been so abrupt and hurt so much that Obi-Wan never quite forgave Qui-Gon for it.

To hear about him like this was… nice.

“Oh, any number of things. A formal request to turn the Room of a Thousand Fountains into an animal sanctuary, starting with the endangered nexus of Alta’ar. Another request to require that all formal tunics be pink. A request to have the symbol of the Order tattooed on the foreheads of anyone acting in a diplomatic capacity.”

Anakin burst out laughing, and Mace’s grin was wide and easy.

“Yes, it was ridiculous. We put up with it until about six months before Naboo, when he stopped. But Obi-Wan kept his promise, and he read every single one of them for the Council’s reconsideration,” Mace said. “Of course, he hadn’t stopped to think about the fact that once he’d done that, we had to go through and formally vote _again_ on each and every item. It took _hours_.” Mace chuckled again. “Or maybe he did think about it, and was just getting back at us.”

Anakin smiled. It was nice to know that his Master’s passive aggressive tendencies didn’t stop with him.

“You did well,” Mace repeated after a few moments of silence. “Just… please try to keep the swearing to a minimum. Otherwise, you’ll find your shins bruised by our Grandmaster.” Anakin snorted.

“Yeah, Obi-Wan told me he found out the hard way.”

“For such a polite man, Obi-Wan certainly has a mouth on him,” Mace sighed, and Anakin smirked. He really did. “We’ll get you read in to the ongoing Council affairs tomorrow, ones that you’ll need to vote on while Obi-Wan is suspended.” Anakin stifled a frown. He really didn’t like that descriptor for this--it reminded him that he only _had_ the position because something was wrong with Obi-Wan. He put the thoughts away; he’d meditate on them later. (Probably not. He would probably go find someone to spar in the salles later, though, which was almost as good.) “I wanted to clarify one thing: we are not yet raising you to the rank of Master. For an Interim position, it isn’t required.”

Anakin nodded, smiling. “That’s fair. I’m just a stand-in for a while.”

Mace frowned. “Anakin, let me make this clear to you. You _are_ acting as a High Councilor. You will be expected to vote on the most serious decisions the Order will make. For the foreseeable future, you _are_ a High Councilor.”

Anakin nodded. “I know, Master.” Kark, he’d been thinking--okay, maybe panicking a little--about nothing else since they’d made the offer. “I won’t take the appointment lightly.”

Mace finally smiled, shaking his head slowly. “I know you won’t. That isn’t what I meant, either. I nominated you, _Anakin Skywalker_ , to the Council when we had need of a Councilor. Show me what you’re made of.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Anakin subplot abounds this chapter, but I'm setting up Obi-Wan's next storyline this chapter...
> 
> Again, thank you so very much to everyone who has commented, followed, and given kudos on this story!

Ahsoka had done her best, really, she _had_ , but… She couldn’t stop _laughing_.

Anakin glowered at his Padawan. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Snips.”

“M-Master,” she gasped, her body and her voice still trembling with her laughter. “I’m sorry. But you know this is _hilarious_ , right? Just two weeks ago, I was still hearing rants about how the Council hates you. And now you’re _on_ the Council?”

“A Jedi doesn’t _hate_ , Ahsoka,” Anakin sighed, and she giggled again.

“Of course not, Master,” she said, far too gravely, her eyes still wide and sparkling with humor and mischief. “Now that you’re on the Council, of course you have to start spouting maxims and sounding like Master Obi-Wan.”

Anakin groaned and scrubbed his flesh hand over his face. He was getting better about not tugging on his hair, but he was well aware he’d just replaced it with other gestures. Pamde, though, would be pleased with his effort, he thought.

“You are aware, Ahsoka, that you’re a Council Padawan now, right?” he asked flatly, and Ahsoka blinked. Clearly, she hadn’t thought of that yet. “We’ll be spending more time in-Temple, and I know you already do a _lot_ , but you’re going to have even more on your plate now.”

“Oh,” she said, frowning thoughtfully. “The Council isn’t doing anything by halves, huh?”

“It might be an Interim position,” Anakin said grimly, “but we don’t know how long that might be. Obi-Wan… needs time. How much time, not even he knows yet.”

“Is he okay? Really?” Ahsoka asked gently, and Anakin sighed.

“As okay as he’s ever been,” he grumbled. “He’s… never been very good at taking care of himself, and now with… after Dooku, and everything, it’s just… too much. For right now.”

“Okay,” Ahsoka accepted easily. “He’s always taken on way more than any one person should, and he’s always worked hard to make sure everything he did went well, and it’s… I’ve been worried about him for a while. Since before this.”

“Me too, Snips,” Anakin sighed.

“I hope this ends up being a good thing,” she said quietly, and the smile he gave her was gentle.

“Me too,” he repeated.

* * *

Padme’s day had _started_ well. It was a rest day in the Senate, leaving her to sleep in (or, well, _try_ to sleep in, she still found herself wide awake as soon as first light started creeping up into the windows) and catch up on work. She barely left the bed, except to dress, munching on a bowl of grapes while she read over the suggestions her fellow Senator, Mon Mothma, had added to the newest bill she was going to introduce on clone rights.

Her serenity was interrupted after only a few hours, her commlink chiming. She smiled, knowing it was Anakin.

“Hello, my love.”

“Padme, what’s ‘interplanetary eminent domain’ consist of?”

She blinked, and then frowned down at her comm. “What? In what context?”

“Well, I guess the Queen on Vakkess wants to renegotiate the taxation on a portion of the Hylian Way with the Banking Clan and the Senate. Something about them having a secondary colony planet on the Hylian Way meaning that it falls into their ‘interplanetary eminent domain.’”

Padme frowned, a small furrow forming between her brows. “Ani, why are you working on this? That should be a matter for the Senate.”

“Yeah, well, the Senate kicked it over to _us_ and we’ve got a meeting about it in six hours,” Anakin sighed. “And I’m only through the first ten pages of a fifty page brief.”

“Is that where they’re sending you next?” Padme asked.

“No, I’m going to be here on Coruscant for a while,” Anakin said, sounding distracted. “Oh, _shit_. I didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Padme asked.

“Tell you about--I’ll come over. I want to tell you in person.”

Anakin hung up. Padme sighed. She loved him, _truly_ she did, but it was _impossible_ to get any work done when Anakin was around.

* * *

“So I’m on the High Council now,” Anakin announced as soon as he saw her, striding straight into her apartment. Padme stared at him, eyes wide, her mouth falling open. Anakin laughed. “Yeah, that’s pretty much the same look I’ve been getting from _everyone_ . I’m just filling in for Obi-Wan, while he… gets his head on straight. It’s a temporary thing, and thank the _Force_ for that because I am in so far over my head.”

“Okay, Ani, one thing at a time,” Padme said soothingly. Stepping forward, she cupped his cheeks. “Hello, my love.”

Anakin seemed to slump in relief, and the smile he gave her was sunny. He darted forward, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips before drawing back. “Hello, my angel.”

Padme nodded at him and then stepped back, gesturing at the couch. “Now, what’s this about Obi-Wan?”

“He temporarily stepped down. There was… an incident on Geonosis. He almost ripped Dooku apart with his kriffing _talons_ because Dooku went after Ahsoka--she’s fine, don’t give me that look, I would’ve told you _first thing_ if something actually happened--and now Obi-Wan doesn’t trust himself.”

“But it was Count _Dooku_ ,” Padme said dully. “Much as I hate death and violence, that man’s death could only mean good things for the galaxy.”

Anakin snorted. “Yeah, but… I get it. Obi-Wan doesn’t even really _remember_ all of it, and that’s gotta be… Hard. He’s having trouble trusting himself, so until he’s… himself again, I’m taking care of the Council for him.”

“Wow,” Padme breathed. “Just… _wow_ . All I’ve heard since we met is how out-of-touch the Council is, and how… combative they can be with you. For them to appoint you to take _Obi-Wan’s_ place is… That’s an amazing step.”

“It really is,” Anakin said, his smile a bit wider, his gaze faraway and dreamy. He shook himself out of it. “But I already sort of regret it. I can’t make heads or tails of this shit. We have a meeting in… five hours now, and I’m going to have to vote on what we should _do_ , and I don’t even get the situation enough to have an _opinion_.”

Padme sighed. There went her catch-up time. Still, though, this seemed important, and it really was something that should be handled by the _Senate_ , not the Order.

“I can help,” she offered, and Anakin looked so relieved and so hopeful that Padme smiled herself. _This_ was why she loved him. He really could be so _sweet_ and _earnest_ sometimes. “So the first question to look at is the age of the colony world versus the age of the agreement for the Hylian Way…”

* * *

Obi-Wan felt his tension practically melting away as soon as he got back on board the _Negotiator_ . He was surrounded by his men again, the men that he trusted and lo-- _cared for_ . Cody had stopped giving him that _look_ that said he was just waiting for Obi-Wan to snap or pass out and have to be dragged off to the medbay. And he was going back into the _field_ . With his _men_.

“You could stay in your rooms in the Temple just one more night. You’d have plenty of time to make it back here before she takes off,” Cody said. They were sitting in Obi-Wan’s quarters, working their way through a bottle of Corellian brandy and the ship’s inventory logs, their standard practice before setting off again.

Obi-Wan snorted. “I’m far more comfortable here, actually. A Jedi has few possessions, and those few that I _do_ have are… well, _here_. Not in the Temple.” Cody looked around. The rooms weren’t terribly large, and had no artwork hung anywhere (or painted straight onto the metal walls, as the vode were wont to do to their barracks), and… they seemed distinctly bare of many identifying features or items.

Cody raised an eyebrow at him. Obi-Wan grinned.

“Let me show you something.”

He went to the footlocker--mostly filled with more booze and spare tunics, Cody knew--and pulled out a small wooden chest. “This box contains most things of any importance to me. I thought about leaving them behind, at the Temple--they would undoubtedly be… safer, but I found I prefer to keep them with me.”

Cody helped him clear enough space on the desk, littered with datapads, flimsi, and mostly-empty cups of tea. Obi-Wan reached into the box and pulled out a short strand of mostly silver beads, though some of them were painted with delicate designs in various colors.

“This was part of Bant’s Padawan braid. She’s a Mon Calamari, you see, so she had no hair to braid.”

“Like Commander Tano,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan nodded.

“Bant’s Master died when she was still young,” Obi-Wan said softly. “She was a wonderful woman, Master Tahl. My own Master was fiercely in love with her.” Cody’s head snapped up to stare at him. Obi-Wan laughed, but it was… quiet. Sad. “Yes, I know. But neither of them ever broke the Code for the other. They never even managed to _do_ anything about those feelings before she was killed.” Obi-Wan shook his head, bringing himself out of his memories. “Anyhow, when Bant was finally Knighted, she split the beads up. A portion went to me, another to our friend Garen, and the third to Mace, who finished her training. It’s tradition, you see, to give your Padawan braid to your Master after your Knighting.” His smile turned decidedly wicked. “ _If_ you decide that your Master deserves it.”

“Did you give yours to your Master?” Cody asked, and Obi-Wan’s smile turned wooden.

“In a way,” Obi-Wan said, his voice even but strained.

“I’m sorry I asked,” Cody murmured.

“No, it’s alright.” Obi-Wan sighed noisily and sat back in his seat again, his wings fluttering slightly. “My own Master died. He was killed in battle--he was the first Jedi to be slain by a Sith in a thousand years. I was Knighted immediately after, and I gave my braid to his pyre.”

That was… Well, he’d known the man had died, but not _how_. “I’m so sorry.”

“It is with the Force,” Obi-Wan sighed. The large drink he downed immediately after that, however, told Cody that maybe it wasn’t. “I still have his lightsaber, you know. It’s…” He reached into the chest again and drew out another ‘saber.

It was longer and the hilt was thicker than Obi-Wan’s own; Master Jinn must have been a large man. Like Obi-Wan’s own ‘saber, the one Cody had become so very familiar with after carrying it for him so often, it was mostly silver and black, although it was a bit more utilitarian.

“What color is it?” Cody asked.

“Green,” Obi-Wan said, a soft smile creeping over his face, nearly hidden by his beard. “My Master liked green things. He was very strong in the Living Force.” Suddenly, Obi-Wan laughed. “It was tricky, making off with Qui-Gon’s lightsaber. Normally, in such circumstances, it’s the Padawan’s choice what to do with it. But the Archivists wanted it in the worst way.”

“Why? To memorialize him?”

“Partly,” Obi-Wan said, seeming uncomfortable again. The barest hint of a blush had appeared on his face. “It was also the blade I used to kill the first Sith in a thousand years. Mine was lost to a melting pit; I made this one--” He gestured to his own ‘saber, sitting within reach on the bedside table. “--well after that. When I first took Anakin to Ilum to find his first crystal. I carried Qui-Gon's, in the meantime.”

“Oh,” Cody said. “That’s… I knew about the Sith, but you were still a _student_ then?” He tried to imagine Commander Tano in that situation, and grimaced, a shiver running down his back.

“That’s what they Knighted me for, actually,” Obi-Wan shrugged, and then his grin widened. “I practically forced the Council to Knight me. There was an old statute-- _very_ old, several thousand years, in fact--stating that slaying a Sith is an automatic Knighthood, accepted in place of the Trials.”

“Wow,” Cody said slowly, and then he paused thoughtfully. “Did you not want to work with another Master? Or did you just know you were ready?”

“Neither,” Obi-Wan said, the smile dimming somewhat. “I… I was nowhere near ready for it, but Anakin needed to be trained. By Temple law, I could only do so if I was no longer a Padawan myself, you see. Qui-Gon was intended to be his Master, and with his death, it fell to me.”

Cody frowned, leaning back slightly. Now _that_ explained a lot. He’d always thought that General Skywalker was… a bit more familiar, a bit too _combative_ with his Master in comparison to all the other Master-Padawan pairs he’d seen. (Which, admittedly, hadn’t been all that many. But even so…) If Obi-Wan had been meant to be his _vod_ , and then was suddenly thrust into the role of _raising_ him…

“Why do you still keep his lightsaber with you? As a reminder?”

“Yes. A lightsaber is a Jedi’s life, we always say, and we don’t simply mean… I know that you understand how a weapon can _be_ your life--” Cody nodded. This, he truly _did_ understand. His blaster, his favorite knife that never left its ankle sheath, the smoke bombs he always kept in his belt pouches-- _these_ were his life. “--but in the Force, it’s more than that. Each crystal is unique, and has a special bond with its user. And the way in which we use our lightsaber impacts the crystal within. A lightsaber reflects all that we are and do while we carry and use it.”

“No wonder you think blasters are barbaric,” Cody muttered, and Obi-Wan laughed.

“They’re very… dull, in the Force,” Obi-Wan clarified. “They don’t feel like much of anything. I prefer to have a weapon I’m in tune with, in battle.”

“So you keep his lightsaber because the crystal reminds you of him, because it feels like him.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I used to meditate on it. It helped, especially right after he died.”

“But you don’t, anymore?”

“I haven’t touched it in… I suppose it’s been several years now,” Obi-Wan answered, shrugging. He looked… tired. Worn. “I haven’t felt the need to in some time.”

Cody nodded slowly, glancing back down at the table. The reports they’d been reviewing were stacked neatly in two piles, all finished; the bottle of brandy stood near-empty, and their two glasses were in a similar state; the chest still lay open between them.

Reaching out, he drained the last of the liquor and made to stand. “I think we’re the best stocked we’ve been since the _Negotiator_ was shiny.” Obi-Wan laughed, rising as well, gently placing the lightsaber back into the chest.

“Thank the Force. I have a feeling we’ll be needing those supplies. The Council is likely to send us to Aambon, in the Mid-Rim.”

Cody grimaced. The 327th, under General Secura, had been trying to beat back the Separatists from formerly-peaceful (and formerly _neutral_ , until the Seps invaded) Aambon for over a _month_.

“We’ll need our rest for that,” Cody said, raising an eyebrow at his General. Obi-Wan laughed.

“Indeed we do. Goodnight, Cody.”

Cody noticed that Obi-Wan hadn’t actually promised to sleep, but he let it go for the moment. From the way he looked, Cody thought sleep might find him before he could fight it.

* * *

“Come again?” Adi Gallia said, frowning. Anakin sighed and resisted the urge to run his hand through his hair, instead clasping them together, his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.

“The dispute over the Hylian Way is more in line with the Senate,” Anakin said. “It should be handled by them.”

“The Order handled the negotiations for the initial treaty,” Plo Koon reminded him. “That is why they referred the matter to us.”

“And we’ll just have to kick it back to them,” Anakin said firmly. “They’re perfectly capable of negotiating themselves, sending a Senate representative directly. They can’t have us as generals _and_ negotiators. It’s just… not practical. We don’t have the _manpower_ to act as both right now.” Anakin reached behind him and grabbed his datapad, gesturing with it. “I sent back the list of mission candidates with my thoughts.” He flicked it on, reading the first name. “Master Gaano. He’s currently on Vester II, trying to get them to agree to us using their medical facilities. In my mind, his current assignment is far more important than the Hylian Way. The Vester system is so close to the Mid-Rim hyperlanes that it would be a great spot for a medical base. And Knight Harrrtyyyl, she’s with the 109th, and they’re in orbit around Kamino. We’ve had rumors that a strike might be planned there--why in the Hels would we move _her_ out of position for this?” Anakin sighed and switched off the pad again. “Look, I could go on, but the fact of the matter here is that the Hylian Way dispute is pretty cut-and-dry in favor of the Vakkess. There’s not really anything to negotiate but a number--and it's a tax break, basically. The Senate wants us to pull Jedi out of combat positions that they’re in _fighting a war for them_ because someone is asking for a tax break they should legally be given? Just… Hels _no_.

“We should send back our recommendations to the Senate, but we _can’t_ pull any Jedi for this.”

There was silence in the Chamber.

Finally, Mace broke it. “You went through every one of the twenty propositions, looked at their current assignments, and then detailed justifications for why their current missions are more of a priority?”

Anakin blinked. “Uh, yeah? I also looked at some other people who weren’t listed, and discounted them, too. That’s also in the file.” The file that, given that he’d sent it about half an hour before the meeting, Anakin didn’t blame them for not having read. “We just don’t have enough Jedi. We’re spread too thin as it is _without_ having the Senate try to push more onto us.”

There was a thoughtful silence at that, and Anakin could sense the other Councilors having one of those mental conferences, but he stayed politely shielded from it, as he’d seen Obi-Wan do when they were discussing him.

“That was… thorough of you,” Mace said. “Normally we debate each suggestion once we’ve decided to take the mission, and we’re discussing who to give it to. But this… saves time. Thank you.”

“Ah, you’re welcome.”

“I wonder if you would accept a… project,” Mace continued. “We all know that there aren’t enough of us to go around. We’ve been meaning to look at the missions the Order has undertaken, see if there are any that could be handed off to the Senate, or the Corps. But again, we haven’t had anyone available to do so. You’ve been out in the field more than most of us, and Obi-Wan taught you politics well. This would require both knowledge of how the war is progressing and frequent interactions with the Senate.”

“I’d be happy to,” Anakin said honestly. “Speaking of how many Jedi there are, we might also want to revisit plans on rebuilding the Order, after the war ends.”

A bolt of _alarm_ rang in the Force from the Councilors.

“ _Rebuilding_ the Order?” Depa asked.

“Yeah. We were already spread thin, like we said, but then the war came. Now we’re losing Knights and Masters by the dozens, and the rates of Padawans being taken are down. We’re already losing Initiates to the Corps at record numbers, mostly due to a lack of Masters to train them, but also because a growing number of us just don’t want to take a Padawan into a war zone--I never like taking Ahsoka, myself--but we feel that we can’t leave the field,” Anakin said plainly. Force knew he’d heard Obi-Wan bemoaning the state of the Order’s numbers more than a few times.

But from the looks on their faces… Obi-Wan hadn’t ever brought this up in front of the Council before. Huh.

“We’d realized that the Order was losing Jedi, but not at the rates you’re talking about. The general feeling was that… once the war ended, we would slowly rise to our former numbers. Do you have raw data refuting that assumption?” Oppo Rancisis asked. Anakin nodded.

“I do, actually. I heard Obi-Wan, ah, _vent_ about it a few times. I thought there was no way it was that bad, so I pulled the numbers.” Anakin grimaced. “It is, actually. That bad. Between the lack of Masters and the age-out limits… If nothing changes, we’ll probably have less than a third of the Jedi after the war than we did going into it. That'll be hard to come back from, unless we plan for it.”

And again, there was that sensation in the Force of the Masters holding something back from him, shielding so tightly that it was… in the Force, it felt like the equivalent of holding your breath. They were hiding something from him, and Anakin's intuition whispered that maybe whatever it was could be the reason that Obi-Wan hadn’t ever spoken to the Council about his concerns.

“Would you send us the data you have?” Adi asked, finding her voice first. Anakin nodded.

“And if you would be willing to start another project…?” Mace prompted, and Anakin grinned, nodding again. “I’d like data on the Order’s numbers for the last three generations, at least. More if you have time and the records are good. I want to see this trend in the bigger picture.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Anakin said with a shrug.

“Good,” Mace said. “We’ve gotten off-topic. All in favor of returning the request to mediate the Hylian Way dispute to the Senate?”

It passed unanimously.

* * *

Padme’s day had gotten… calmer, after Anakin left. She spent the rest of the afternoon and evening reading over the notes from Mon Mothma she’d been trying to get through earlier. Her friend had more than a few good ideas, and she was quick to accept most of the suggestions.

Still, in the back of her mind, Padme was reeling. The revelations of the day were… a lot to cope with. Anakin, her _husband_ she should _not be married to_ , the Chosen One, had been appointed to the Jedi High Council. He was asking _her_ instead of _Obi-Wan_ for advice on politics (not that that would be so strange, but she and Anakin tended to fervently disagree on so many political matters; only the knowledge that they both reached for the same goals, only in different ways, kept them from falling out over it. Still, it meant that Anakin rarely went to Padme for political advice).

And the Senate was throwing assignments at the already overwhelmed Jedi that they could easily handle _themselves_. The misuse and disparity of it, the over-worked Jedi and the under-used Senate… well, it made Padme concerned. Very concerned.

And she fully planned to look into it.

Still, that was a matter for another time. Padme had just dressed for bed, a simple nightgown, not-quite-sheer, and was _just_ about to climb into bed when C-3PO called to her.

“Mistress Padme, there is a _Jedi_ here to see you.”

She laughed. “3PO, you haven’t been that formal about Ani coming over for _years_.”

“I am not your husband, Senator.”

Padme’s heart sank as she heard the unfamiliar, deep voice. She quickly threw on a robe to cover herself and strode out into the living room. An unfamiliar Jedi stood calmly in the center of the room. He was wearing black and dark brown tunics and the standard high boots, his hair falling in long, dark dreadlocks around his face, which had a yellow stripe across it.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember you, if we’ve met before. My sincere apologies,” Padme said coolly. It was always best to fall into politeness if one was unsure of their situation.

And since this was a Jedi who was aware of her marriage to one of his Order, Padme felt _very_ unsure.

The Jedi laughed and bowed, a bit more swagger in the motion than Obi-Wan’s practiced, smooth motions, or Anakin’s still somewhat stilted bows. “Master Quinlan Vos,” he introduced himself. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Senator.”

“Please, have a seat,” Padme said. “3PO, could we have some tea, please?”

“You might want something stronger for this conversation,” Quinlan said. His tone was playful, as was his smirk. His eyes were not.

“What do you prefer?”

“You got any of that brandy Obi-Wan likes so much?”

Padme nodded. “Make that the Corellian brandy, 3PO.”

“Right away, Mistress Padme.”

“So Obi-Wan _is_ a frequent visitor, then,” Quinlan said, practically throwing himself down to sprawl on the couch. Padme sat much slower, much more carefully, keeping a wary eye on her visitor.

“Yes, of course. We’re old friends.”

“Yeah, I know. Since the blockade.”

Padme nodded. “Are you here to discuss my relationship with Anakin?”

“Yes,” Quinlan said, raising an eyebrow at her. “And no. I’ve got some questions for you.”

“First, let me ask you this: are you going to inform the Council?”

“No,” Quinlan sighed. “No, I’m not. There’s only one reason for that, too: I don’t think he’s broken the Code.”

Padme blinked at him, her brow furrowing in surprise. “Jedi are not allowed to marry.”

“Which is why I’m keeping it a secret. But I’m only keeping the secret because he didn’t break the Code. The Jedi Code doesn’t say ‘don’t love,’ it says don’t become _attached_ . Attachment would be to put someone else above your duty. But I know Skywalker’s history, and he’s yet to go gallivanting off to save you when you’re in danger if his duty kept him elsewhere.” Quinlan shrugged. “So, for now, I’m not going to tell. He still broke the _rules_. We aren’t allowed to take any other vows when we’re part of the Order, once we’ve sworn ourselves to it. But I don’t think it’s affecting his ability to do his duty.”

“Right,” Padme said slowly, relaxing minutely. 3PO finally arrived with their drinks. “Thank you, 3PO. So what questions do you have for me?”

“I want to talk about Tatooine,” Quinlan said. Padme winced. “And Chancellor Palpatine. _Everything_ you know about him.”

* * *

Obi-Wan _knew_ that he should be sleeping. He knew that Cody would give him that _look_ tomorrow if he realized that Obi-Wan hadn’t slept. He knew that he was going to feel awful, if he went yet _another_ night without rest. He knew that he wouldn’t be as effective, if he didn’t sleep.

But the last week had been riddled with nightmares. Obi-Wan dreamed of his talons slashing, carving into Dooku’s face, his chest. He dreamed that Anakin hadn’t come to stop him, and he’d succeeded in ripping out Dooku’s heart. He dreamed that he had failed, and Ahsoka had fallen to her death.

Obi-Wan didn’t want to dream. He was just as tired of the nightmares as he was simply staying awake.

Sighing in frustration, Obi-Wan frowned thoughtfully. Perhaps meditation? He’d gotten more lax about it, again, after getting his wings back. Meditating when he felt he didn’t know a part of himself was _necessary_ , but it was… uncomfortable.

Frankly, he’d been avoiding it.

But no matter. He would face it, because he _had_ to. Obi-Wan sat on the bed, pulling off his boots, and his lightsaber sitting on the bedside table caught his eye. Perhaps…

He finished tugging off his boots, throwing them carelessly to the floor a few feet away, before rising and retrieving Qui-Gon’s lightsaber from the chest still sitting on the table.

Settling himself on the bed, legs crossed, his wings settling down onto the bed behind him, Obi-Wan set the lightsaber down in front of him. He closed his eyes, and reached for the Force.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, again, this chapter was completely not what I expected. It is, however, a perfect set-up for what's coming next, so I'm not changing anything. But let me know what you think!
> 
> And yes, Palpatine shows up this chapter. Most of it, actually, is Palpatine. Slimy. Ugh.

“Kid, as happy as I am to hear that the Order’s going to start shoving the Senate’s ridiculous ‘requests’--” Anakin snorted at the air quotes. “--back down their throats, you can’t ask _Senator Amidala_ for help like that.”

Anakin frowned at the shuddering blue holoimage of Quinlan; the _Negotiator_ had nearly reached Aambon, and the signal was getting weaker, even though Anakin had given both Quinlan and Obi-Wan one of his modified commlinks before they’d shipped out.

“Why not? She’s a _Senator_ . This is shit that should stay in the _Senate_.”

“I agree with you there, but… it’s a conflict of interest,” Quinlan sighed.

“Padme didn’t have any stake in the negotiations on Vakkess, and she doesn’t have a stake in the Banking Clan,” Anakin pointed out. “I don’t see where the conflict is.”

Quinlan barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Kid, come on. You can’t be _that_ dense. _You_ are the conflict of interest. You and her. Working together.”

“I--but neither of us really cared about the resolution,” Anakin insisted, “just that it was done _right_ , and by the right people!”

“I get that,” Quinlan said, “and I believe you, for what it’s worth. But if anyone ever were to find out about the two of you, and that you’d asked for help with Council business… every decision you make would be called into question. The media and the Senate would rip us apart, not to mention the damage it would do to her career. Sometimes, it doesn’t matter what something _is_ , it matters what it _looks like_.”

Anakin opened his mouth to retort and stopped himself. _Calm, deep breaths. Focus on the moment, not your karking_ **_emotions_ ** _, that’s what everyone keeps saying._

His shoulders slumped. “I see your point. But who _can_ I ask? If I can’t take the requests to Padme, I sure as Hels couldn’t take them to the Chancellor. But I’ll need someone in the Senate for this.”

“Why does it have to be just one person?” Quinlan asked, tilting his head thoughtfully. “If it’s just _one_ person, that’s bias and a conflict of interest. But if it’s balanced by a few others…” 

Anakin blinked at him. “You… want me to form a committee?”

Quinlan shrugged. “That’s _democracy_ at work, kid. And between you and Obi-Wan, I think you might know a few Senators who genuinely want the best for the galaxy and the Order. Or, at least _mostly_ genuinely. They’re still _politicians_.”

“That’s… going to slow things down,” Anakin said, frowning. “We could get so much more done if we just _decide_ and skip all the debating.” His last few Council sessions had underscored that point perfectly. _Hours_ of arguing just to assign _one simple mission_ , and Anakin was starting to understand why Obi-Wan always looked so tired.

“Decisions shouldn’t ever just be in one person’s hands,” Quinlan sighed. “Who’s to say they’ll always make the right one? And anyone having that much power is… dangerous. It’s a slippery slope right back to the Dark Side.”

Anakin scowled, but didn’t disagree. “Fine. I’ll take the idea to the Council. How’s Obi-Wan doing?”

Quinlan sighed and pulled on one of his dreadlocks. “He’s drinking caff.”

“Kark,” Anakin groaned. When Obi-Wan switched from tea to caff--which he absolutely _despised_ , calling it “brewed tar mixed with rocket fuel”--that meant he wasn’t sleeping. Probably at all. “Is he going to be okay for this?”

“I don’t think whatever’s getting to him now is about the mission,” Quinlan said slowly. “He’s been carrying around Qui-Gon’s lightsaber again.”

“Oh,” Anakin said softly. Obi-Wan was… unpredictable when it came to Qui-Gon. Even before he got his wings back, that was the _one_ topic that Anakin always tip-toed around with his former Master because he might go… a little off the rails. There were days when Obi-Wan would light up at the mention of Qui-Gon, and he’d happily sit with Anakin for hours on end and tell him stories about his own time as a Padawan. But then there were other days when Obi-Wan would stare off into space, his eyes stormy, and then spend an entire night in meditation holding Qui-Gon’s ‘saber.

After Tatooine, after… after his mother died, Anakin finally understood the kind of _grief_ that Obi-Wan must have felt--but it hadn’t reared its head in _years_ \--or at least he’d thought it hadn’t.

Anakin shook his head. _Here and now, dammit_ , he scolded himself mentally. “Is Obi-Wan going to be okay, though? Aambon is a mess, he shouldn’t be going into it if he’s distracted.”

“Commander Cody told me he’ll be fine,” Quinlan said with another shrug. “He said Obi-Wan told him he was ‘working on a project.’”

“A ‘project’ he needs Qui-Gon’s ‘saber for?” Anakin paused thoughtfully. “Jar-kai, maybe?”

“Dunno. Maybe,” Quinlan answered, and then looked at something out of range of the viewer. “Gotta run. We’re doing the final prep, should arrive at Aambon in two hours.”

“Right,” Anakin sighed. “Just… keep him safe, will you?”

“Always,” Quinlan promised, nodding firmly. “And I’ll ask for recommendations for Senators for your little party.”

Anakin snorted. “Thanks.”

“And kid?” Quinlan gave him one of his signature grins, sharp teeth bared. “You’re doing fine. Just keep on top of yourself.”

“Thanks,” Anakin repeated, a bit more genuinely than before. As the feed winked out, he sat back.

He hated politics. He hated _politicians_. Well, as a general rule--Padme and Chancellor Palpatine were… different. Anakin sighed and frowned. Where in the Hels was he going to find enough Senators he trusted to let them have a say in the direction the Order was going to be taking?

* * *

“You’re late.”

Quinlan waved a hand in apology. “I know, Obi. Sorry. I was tied up with _Councilor_ Skywalker.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes before draining the rest of a mug of caff, gesturing at Cody.

“We’re going to be landing about seven kliks south of General Secura and the 327th,” Cody began, gesturing to one of the plains outside of the capital city of Diirsk. “General Secura has been keeping the capital secure. The 327th didn’t have the manpower to split between the capital and the droids the Separatists keep landing. We’ll be helping by going after the base the Separatists have set up here.” Again, he gestured to the holotable. “We’ll be about four kliks from their base when we land.”

“Seems fairly straight-forward,” Quinlan said with a satisfied nod.

“There is a complication,” Obi-Wan murmured. Quinlan groaned.

“Of course there is.”

“The Separatists have taken prisoners from the outlying villages around the capital. They’re holding them inside of the base and using them as slave labor.”

“Kark.” Obi-Wan shot him a glare that clearly said _not-on-my-bridge_ , his feathers ruffling slightly. Quinlan ignored it. “So what’s the plan?”

“Surveillance first,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “We’ll send in a small team to see what kind of measures they have taken against an uprising or escape attempt. If it’s fear and intimidation, that will be easily overcome. But they’ve had more than enough time to put other precautions in place--collars, either shock collars or detonators, or perhaps even implants. The first team sent will be small, and will aim _only_ to make contact with the Aambonians inside to determine how they are being held there.”

“While that team infiltrates, the rest of us will shore up the south border to the capital city. The droid companies will have to go through us to get to the 327th, and they could use the relief. Hopefully, it will also distract them from our true purpose, at least at first. Make it look like we’re just here to reenforce the 327th and the capital,” Cody continued. Quinlan nodded. It was a good plan. Simple, not a lot of room for things to go wrong.

The real planning would start after the infiltration team got the information they were after.

“I like being sneaky,” Quinlan said slowly, and Obi-Wan was already nodding.

“I believe it would be--”

“Sir,” Cody cut in smoothly. “Are you planning on going with General Vos to the base?”

Obi-Wan frowned at him. “No. I draw far too much attention for much stealth these days,” he answered, shifting his wings to emphasize them. “Besides, we already discussed this. I’ll be with you and the rest of the 212th, part of the distraction.”

Cody frowned. “Then General Vos will have to stay with us. We _are_ expecting to draw fire.”

“What?” Quinlan asked dully, folding his arms over his chest. “Why?”

“Council’s orders, sirs,” Cody answered simply.

“Oh for _Force’s sake_ ,” Obi-Wan groaned. “Cody, we aren’t even going to be in a _real_ engagement. We’re just a distraction, a decoy to draw a bit of attention. It will be _fine_.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but the Council was explicit in their orders,” Cody said, and he truly did sound apologetic, though his expression remained impassive. Quinlan was impressed, though maybe he should’ve expected that sort of thing from Obi-Wan’s Commander. “General Vos can stay with us and we can proceed as planned, or General Vos can go with the infiltration team and you will have to coordinate the battle from up here.”

Obi-Wan began frowning outright at that. “I will not be separated from my men during battle, Cody. You _know_ that.”

“Do you have anyone else who could pull off an infiltration like this?” Quinlan asked, breaking the rising tension between them.

“Waxer and Boil are good at skulking around,” Cody said lightly, and Obi-Wan sighed.

“They are.”

“Okay, that’s two. How many were you planning to send?”

“Three, maybe four at the most,” Obi-Wan answered slowly. “Any more than that would risk drawing too much attention.”

“I could go,” Cody offered. Obi-Wan looked like he wanted to protest, but Cody was already continuing. “I’ve had ARC training. Quick and quiet isn’t new to me.”

“That’s a great idea,” Quinlan said brightly. “Thank you for offering. That solves all of our problems, doesn’t it, Obi?”

From the way Obi-Wan was now clenching his jaw, his eyes going from bright green to stormy grey, Quinlan thought that it might introduce a new one. But Obi-Wan seemed to war with himself for a moment before his shoulders slumped almost-imperceptibly, and he nodded.

“Straight in and out. Nothing dramatic.”

“Of course not, sir,” Cody promised smoothly. “I’ll set a good example for Waxer and Boil, don’t you worry.”

Obi-Wan snorted, but simply nodded again. “That’s settled, then. Go prepare for landing, everyone.”

The rest of the men began to leave the bridge, heading for the hangars to board the dropships that would take them and their equipment down. Cody gave Obi-Wan one last glance, looking as though he wanted to stay, to say something further, but Obi-Wan gave him a tight smile and a nod, and the Commander left with the rest of his brothers.

“You don’t seem happy,” Quinlan said flatly, and Obi-Wan shook his head. He crossed one arm over his chest, the other hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, and Quinlan’s stomach sank. He _knew_ that look.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

* * *

Anakin shifted his weight from one foot to another slowly, holding his hands behind his back, his flesh hand cupped in the mech one to make sure he wouldn’t start clenching his fists. He felt… nervous. It was strange--he hadn’t been _nervous_ about meeting with Chancellor Palpatine since after the first time he’d been asked to see the Chancellor by himself, without Obi-Wan. That had been… six years ago? Wow--it felt like just yesterday, sometimes.

“The Chancellor will see you now,” the clone aide to the Chancellor told him. Anakin wracked his brain for the man’s name.

“Thank you, Reacher.” He allowed himself a small smile as Reacher’s posture straightened, satisfaction radiating from him in the Force the way it did for all clones whenever someone who wasn’t a brother used their chosen names.

He strode through the heavy double doors. Nothing in here, at least, had changed. It eased his tension slightly. In the dim evening light, Anakin could see Coruscant’s perpetually-heavy traffic through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall. He’d lost count of how many times he’d heard Obi-Wan bemoaning the structure of the Chancellor’s office. “Those windows are simply _begging_ for a sniper to come take a crack at him,” he’d muttered under his breath after each trip to see the Chancellor.

Inside, the red-clad room hadn’t changed at all, either. And neither had Chancellor Palpatine. He looked up from the datapad he’d been staring at and gave Anakin a broad, if tired, smile, already rising as Anakin bowed.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Chancellor,” Anakin said. As Obi-Wan had taught him and Padme had reenforced, he fell back on politeness and manners when he was nervous. Or, well, he was _trying_ to. Normally he fell back on smartass remarks and flash-fire anger, but… This was the _Chancellor_ , and more than that, this was his _friend_. Or, at least, he hoped. If that wasn’t too presumptuous of him.

“Of course, Anakin,” the Chancellor said, his smile growing a bit wider, some of the weariness leaving his eyes. “I always have time for you, my boy. Please, sit.” Anakin sat as directed on the couch below the dais where the Chancellor’s desk sat. “Would you care for a drink?”

“Ah, yes, please, Chancellor. Whatever you’re having.”

“Excellent! I’ve just received several fine bottles from Vester II,” the Chancellor said, crossing to the bar on the other side of the room. He retrieved the bottle and two glasses and made his way back to the couch, sitting slowly down onto the other side. Anakin noticed his grimace and frowned. The Chancellor, of course, noticed that, too. He sighed. “I’m afraid I’m getting _old_ \--my back is not what it once was, at the end of a long day. But that’s no matter--here you are. Please, drink. It’s a truly marvellous beverage--I’ve never had anything like it before.”

Anakin sipped at the clear liquor slowly, and his eyebrows rose. It… didn’t taste like alcohol at all. It was fruity and sweet, but almost biting, underneath, but more like citrus than alcohol. He took another sip and felt himself relaxing slightly at the normalcy of it all.

“That’s dangerous stuff,” Anakin said without thinking, and the Chancellor laughed brightly.

“Oh, quite,” he agreed. “I gifted another bottle to the Senator from Demaris. The following morning, the Senator’s aide looked quite a bit worse for wear. It’s easy not to notice how much you may have imbibed.” Anakin nodded his agreement, and they simply sat in silence for a moment, the tension slowly bleeding from Anakin’s shoulders.

Chancellor Palpatine did always seem to know exactly what Anakin needed.

“You seem… troubled, my boy,” the Chancellor finally said, and Anakin sighed. “Have you come on official business?”

“Partly,” Anakin admitted, shifting guiltily--on the one hand, he felt that he shouldn’t waste the Chancellor’s time with personal matters, but Chancellor Palpatine always seemed so genuinely _pleased_ to see him that it also made him feel guilty for _not_ just visiting... “But there’s… I have _so much_ to tell you.”

A gentle smile crossed Chancellor Palpatine’s face, and he sat forward, a little straighter, on the couch. “You know that I will _always_ hear what you have to say, Anakin. Please.” He gestured with the hand not holding the drink, inviting Anakin to speak.

And, as they always had in the company of his second mentor, the words tumbled freely from Anakin’s lips.

“I’m on the Council now,” he began, and the Chancellor gasped softly.

“My congratulations--that is incredible news,” the Chancellor said, sounding smug. “I am so pleased that they have seen reason and _finally_ given you some authority!”

Anakin let himself feel a flush of _pride_ . “I know. And it was _Master Windu_ who nominated me! And apparently, the vote was unanimous. The last unanimous vote for a Councilor was Obi-Wan, and before that, Master Windu himself.”

“Heavens,” the Chancellor murmured. “Master Windu has always seemed… more traditional, to me. Too conservative to consider someone like yourself for a High Council position. We’ve spoken many times, of course, about the various changes you would make to the Order, if you were able.” Anakin nodded again. The Chancellor had helped him through many doubts about the Order before. When he’d still been a Padawan, and the war had broken out and he’d been placed under Obi-Wan, the Chancellor had helped him petition for his own battalion and, privately, had worked with him on a plan to make Padawans more independent from their Masters in the future--if Anakin ever had a say in the running of the Order and could suggest it without being laughed out of the Council Chamber. And when he’d fallen in love with Padme, they’d talked about how he wanted Jedi to be able to have _families_ , and how that might be accomplished--Master Mundi was already married, after all, and to _five wives_.

The Chancellor had a real knack for seeing how to help Anakin make the things he wanted come to be.

“That’s the other incredible thing,” Anakin said, a slow, small smile breaking out over his face. “They actually seem to be _listening_ to me.”

Chancellor Palpatine sat back slightly, his eyes wide and curious, taking another small drink. “Really? How so?”

“Well, there are two things--not huge, not if you compare them to what we’ve talked about before--but still. The first one is how to rebuild the Order--they’re finally taking notice of the declining number of Jedi over the years,” Anakin explained. “And that’s the first step to getting them to agree that Jedi can have _families_ . That we _should_ have families.”

The Chancellor’s smile was indulgent and content. He nodded. “It is, given the plan we discussed previously. That is an encouraging step.”

“It really is,” Anakin said, his smile wider and almost dreamy. He was picturing a future where Padme could come to live in the Temple with him, where they would have sons and daughters to fill the creche, and maybe one of them would be _his_ Padawan one day…

He shook his head, his smile dimming. That had felt… less like a daydream, and more like… like a _vision_?

“And the other matter?”

“Right,” Anakin said, straightening himself and shaking his head to clear it. “That’s the official business. The Order is… over-stretched. I know that you know that, but it’s gotten… more and more difficult. We were already declining in population _before_ the war, and now with all of the battles, we’re just… we’re losing people too quickly, and we can’t handle the war and everything else. There just aren’t enough of us.”

“It is a sad thing to see,” the Chancellor sighed in agreement. “The Order is so _integral_ to our Republic.”

Anakin nodded. “Exactly. And we’re hoping to find a way to change it, to make it so that the Order can _grow_ instead of just die off. But in the meantime, it means that there just aren’t enough of us, and we can’t accept every request for help. Believe me, we’d _like_ to, but we just… can’t spare anyone. Not with the war going on.”

“I understand the sentiment completely,” the Chancellor assured him. “But what does that mean, in practical terms?”

“Well, for starters, at the official Senate meeting tomorrow, we’re going to return the request to negotiate the Hylian Way dispute,” Anakin said, and the Chancellor’s eyes widened.

“That was brought forward by Senator Vikkyo,” he said slowly. “He is a rather… influential member of the Senate.”

“I know, but we just… it’s a _tax break_ , Chancellor. They want us to pull Jedi out of the field over a _tax break_ . We just… can’t. All of the resources we have are either out there _fighting_ or trying to help those who are fighting.” Anakin looked down at his glass, drinking again. “You said this was from Vester II?”

“Indeed. It was a gift, upon their leaving the Council of Neutral Systems and joining the Republic.”

“Master Gaano was on Vester II. He was the one negotiating their entry into the Republic. They’re going to let us add on to their existing medical facilities and use them for the war effort,” Anakin said, and he shook his head. “Master Gaano was one of the proposed Masters for the Hylian Way dispute. Do you see what could have happened if we’d sent him there instead of digging our heels in on Vester II?”

“Of course,” the Chancellor agreed again. “I fully support the Order. But to many, I fear that the Order and the Council rejecting requests for aid from the Senate will appear… well, it might appear as if the Order is _distancing_ themselves. In these troubled times, that may be a… fatal mistake.”

“That’s not it at all!” Anakin protested, his eyes going wide. “The Order is just _too busy_ fighting an _entire war for the Republic_! Can’t people see that?”

“I’m certain many will,” the Chancellor replied soothingly, “as I already do. But there is always a dissenting voice. The Order must be prepared for a certain level of animosity towards this new course.”

“Right,” Anakin said, relaxing slightly. “Thank you for the warning. But there’s another part to this. The Order wanted me to take point on deciding which requests we’d accept. After… talking with certain people…” And _oh_ , Anakin was so very aware of the reddening of his face and neck and ears, his whole body flushing with embarrassment as he recalled first how he’d had to ask Padme what “interplanetary eminent domain” was (something that, she was entirely correct, he really _should have learned_ already from both his classes at the Temple and his missions as Obi-Wan’s Padawan) and his not-quite-scolding from Vos for having asked her in the first place. He ignored it and continued. “We think that the best course of action is to form a committee.”

“A committee? Consisting of whom?”

“A mix of a few Senators and a couple of Jedi,” Anakin said slowly. “Since we’re discussing Senate requests, it’ll… help streamline things in the future if they understand what kinds of requests we’re more likely to accept and see the process for how we got to the decisions. Wastes less time that way. So there should be a few Senators on the committee. And the Jedi… well, I pointed out to the Council that I can’t always be there. The 501st is needed in the field way too often for me to be stuck here on Coruscant, but a lot of the High Councilors rarely leave, so they don’t know what it’s _like_ out there, what’s really going on. We need Jedi familiar with the war on this committee, but High Councilors too, so we’ll have rotating seats. I was thinking three Senators and three Jedi. I know it might lead to some hung votes, but I think it has to be even or the Senate will feel slighted, and I’m not putting more _Senators_ on the committee than Jedi. And that’s partly why I’m here--you can form a Senate committee without the Senate approving the representatives beforehand. The Senate would just… they’d bicker about who should be on the committee, and then they’d fight about why there shouldn’t even _be_ a committee, and… we just don’t have time for that. Change needs to start _now_.”

“Well now,” Chancellor Palpatine said, sinking back into the couch and sipping at his drink. “That is… a workable plan. Did you come up with this?”

“Yeah, actually,” Anakin said, his embarrassment forgotten in favor of the pride the Chancellor so often inspired in him. “After the committee was suggested, I thought about what we’d have to do and presented the idea to the Council. They all agreed.” Master Windu had, actually, said that it was _his_ project, and he wasn’t going to stop Anakin from working with others if he “finally felt like doing so.”

Whatever _that_ was supposed to mean. He worked just fine with Ahsoka and Obi-Wan and the 501st, thank you.

“That’s very well done, my boy,” the Chancellor said, giving him a broad smile. “I daresay you would have made an excellent politician, had your path been different.”

Anakin couldn’t help it, and he blamed it on the too-strong, too-sneaky alcohol: his face twisted into a grimace. The Chancellor laughed.

“I’m sorry, Chancellor,” he murmured. “I just… Padme is an exception, but I really don’t like most politicians. And… well, there’s you, of course.”

“I’m flattered, my boy, that you have such regard for me,” the Chancellor said gently, and Anakin could _feel_ his pleasure in the Force. It warmed something in Anakin to know that the _High Chancellor of the Republic_ cared if Anakin liked him. “I think your idea of a committee is superb. The public may take some convincing, but in time, I’m sure it will all smooth over.”

“Thank you,” Anakin said.

They sat in companionable silence for a long moment, the Chancellor taking the opportunity to pour for them both again before he spoke.

“Which Councilor are you replacing? I do hope the worst hasn’t happened.” Anakin’s stomach twisted, his heart sank, and he couldn’t help the way that he tensed. As _always_ , the Chancellor noticed, frowning at him in concern.

“It’s… not like that,” Anakin said slowly. He sighed, not noticing when his mech hand clenched. “Nobody died. I’m… I’m just an Interim Councilor, and they haven’t even raised me to Master yet, because of that, but… still, we don’t know how much time he’s going to need.”

The Chancellor sat forward, resting one hand lightly on Anakin’s flesh arm.

“Who is it?”

“I… I’m replacing Obi-Wan,” Anakin admitted. “He just… needs some time.”

The Chancellor frowned. “But he hasn’t been taken from the field. I saw a report just this morning that he is leading the 212th to Aambon to assist Knight Secura and the 327th.”

“No, he hasn’t been pulled out of the field,” Anakin agreed, “but he’s… He has too much going on. He couldn’t take on the High Council _and_ the 212th _and_ being a High General all at the same time. Not right now.”

“Master Kenobi always seemed to do an admirable job,” the Chancellor said slowly. “What changed?”

“I…” For the second time in his life, Anakin didn’t quite feel comfortable telling Chancellor Palpatine something. The first time had been the Tuskens, and Anakin unwillingly remembered the man’s gentle sympathy for his mother, the way that he _understood_ why Anakin had done what he’d done, and…

But this was _Obi-Wan_.

“He’s still a capable Jedi, and a good General,” Anakin said, the words rushing out. “And I know that you’re the Chancellor, still, even though you… take the time to talk to me about personal stuff, but… if I tell you this, please promise me that you won’t hold it against him. In an official capacity.”

Chancellor Palpatine blinked at him, and then his expression twisted into something like… grief?

“Oh, Anakin,” he sighed. “I’m terribly sorry. I know that… with most of your relationships, you have to balance _power_ and other people’s desires. Even with your own wife.” Anakin couldn’t hold back his flinch at that. He _hated_ being reminded of the fact that he was a Jedi and Padme was a Senator--and Vos had pointed it out all too recently himself. “And with Master Kenobi. He was _your_ Master, after all.

“But I… I would never want you to think that I am taking advantage of you for information,” the Chancellor continued, sounding _stricken_ . “I am your mentor, and your confidante, and your _friend_ , if you will allow me to be. When you come to me as _Anakin Skywalker_ , and not _Knight Skywalker_ , anything you say to me is privileged. After all, according to the laws of the Order, I _should_ have informed them about the… incident on Tatooine as soon as I knew. And I never have, Anakin. To this day, I have never told a _soul_ , because I _understand_ why you did it, but also because they would have cast you out. And I could not have that--all that I want is for you to become _stronger_ . To become the man that you were _meant_ to be.

“You must believe me, Anakin--I would _never_ do anything to jeopardize that.”

Anakin blinked several times, and then slumped back in relief. He took a drink, noting that his hand was shaking slightly.

“Thank you,” he rasped finally. “You have… no idea what that means to me.”

“Of course, my dear boy,” the Chancellor murmured, and gently pulled Anakin’s glass away to refill it once more.

There was another long moment of silence, and this time, Anakin spoke first.

“Obi-Wan is… he doesn’t trust himself right now,” Anakin said softly. “When he got his wings back, apparently it triggered some… dormant instincts. He’s exceptionally protective, now, and… there are so _many_ people he wants to save. For someone who always tried to be… the perfect Jedi, it’s… he’s… _disturbed_ by it. By that part of himself he didn’t _realize_ was there all along. He has so many _attachments_ , and he thinks he shouldn’t, and… what he’s willing to _do_ for those people…”

Anakin trailed off, lifting his drink to his mouth with his ever-more trembling hand.

“There was an incident, I take it?” the Chancellor asked softly.

Anakin was torn. He _wanted_ to tell the Chancellor, to confide in him, because he knew that Chancellor Palpatine was wise and he would know exactly what to say, what Anakin should _do_ about all of this, but…

That was just it. This wasn’t about _him_ , this… was about Obi-Wan.

Anakin licked his lips and took another drink. “There have been several incidents. The first one, Obi-Wan was protecting one of his troopers, and just… ripped apart an assassin droid with his bare hands. And he destroyed a whole _company_ of droids when my arm just got fried by a stray shot. But he doesn’t really remember them that well, and it… scares him. He doesn’t know what he’s capable of anymore--he’s doubting himself, and it’s… hard for him.”

There was a pregnant pause, and Anakin was already regretting saying _anything_ , when the Chancellor laughed.

“Is that all? Master Kenobi felt a strong protective urge and handled a few droids, and he begins to doubt himself?” Chancellor Palpatine shook his head. “In my mind, that simply makes him good at his job. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less.”

Anakin relaxed. The Chancellor hadn’t heard about Dooku, then, and what… what Obi-Wan had done, and tried to do.

“It just… bothers him. He feels out of control, and he’s not the sort that… Jedi are supposed to be in perfect control of ourselves at all times. We’re supposed to know ourselves inside and out and face who and what we are. Obi-Wan’s always tried so hard to be _perfect_ , and he feels like he’s failing and it’s out of his control. I get it. I get why it scares him, but I don’t… he’s still Obi-Wan. He’s still himself.”

And Anakin didn’t know who he was trying to convince in that moment, and that scared _him_.

“Master Kenobi has always proven himself to be an admirable Jedi. He is an asset to the Order, and to the Republic. I am certain that he will regain his equilibrium, and in the meantime, he may rest easy knowing that you will take care of Council matters for him,” Chancellor Palpatine said confidently, and it soothed something in Anakin to hear that faith in them.

“Thank you, Chancellor. I… appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Anakin said quietly. The Chancellor beamed at him and waved a hand.

“Think nothing of it. It’s the least I can do for you, my boy.”

* * *

Palpatine waited _just_ long enough for the door to fully close behind Anakin before dropping his shields and allowing himself to _seethe_.

This was _not_ going according to his plan.

When Anakin had walked into his office, he had known something was different. When he had gotten closer to the boy, sitting on the couch beside him, he hadn’t been able to hide his grimace, and had had to blame it on the aches and pains of _age_ . But he couldn’t have helped it--Anakin felt so much _lighter_ , in the Force, and it was… galling.

All of that hard work…

But still, there had been a few positive signs. Palpatine sighed and went to stand in front of the windows, hands clasped behind his back, staring out at the darkness of the city, punctuated by glowing towers and the lights on the passing speeders. Anakin had still confided in him--mostly, anyway. He had not shared what Kenobi had done to Darth Tyranus--his apprentice was still in recovery, regaining his former skills as he practiced with a new cybernetic eye. But that was another’s secret, and Palpatine knew how fiercely Anakin guarded his friends.

And Kenobi was now… an interesting conundrum. The man’s presence had always _grated_ on Palpatine, with the way he practically _glowed_ with light in the Force. There hadn’t been a drop of Darkness to be found in him. Oh, there was anger and hate in _spades_ in the fiery young Jedi, but they were almost entirely self-directed. Kenobi’s own unique brand of Darkness was always expressed in a lack of care and concern for _himself_ , and never used on others.

He was precisely the sort of self-sacrificing imbecile that Palpatine’s own Master had told him Jedi tried to emulate. It was _disgusting_.

But if these events were causing him to _doubt_ himself, to believe that he was on the precipice of Darkness… Perhaps he could use that. Perhaps, even if Kenobi could not be turned--and oh, that prospect sent a delicious _thrill_ down Palpatine’s spine, the image of Tyranus reunited with his lineage, the venerated Master Kenobi kneeling at Palpatine’s feet--perhaps… He may be able to convince Anakin to kill his master, to spare him a Fall. That would get him very neatly out of Palpatine’s way, when the time came. Kenobi had always been one of the few Palpatine feared could drag Anakin back to the light after Palpatine managed to engineer his Fall.

And that business with the Order… The Order _was_ distancing itself from the Senate. From the _Republic_ , no, but most of the citizens would not make that distinction. They would not be able to see the Jedi, on Coruscant, in the Senate, nearly as often. The Jedi would be fighting for them, doing everything in their power to preserve the Republic, but they would be far away from the Core in doing so. Palpatine had made sure that the war did not reach the Core--not yet. They were not ready.

And so the Jedi would be seen to be neglectful of their duties and to the _people_ of the very Republic they were so desperately fighting for, and their image would suffer for it. This would make the final stroke in his plan far easier.

Palpatine sighed in satisfaction, calming somewhat. He could use these events to his advantage after all, in one way or another.

Anakin felt lighter because he now had _hope_ . There was no harm, he decided, in letting that hope swell for a while. It would make dashing that hope for change and a lighter future that much more _painful_ for the young man, and his Fall only steeper.

He nodded to himself once. Anakin would be fine. His influence on the young Jedi had not waned despite the boy’s shift away from the Dark Side, and he was still a viable pawn. When the time was right, Anakin would stand beside him.

Palpatine paused. In the meantime, what to do with Master Kenobi? Surely that potential could not be allowed to be wasted.

A slow grin spread across his face, and he turned back to his desk where his commlink lay. Perhaps it would be best to have his apprentice post a bounty...


End file.
